


Did you check the mail?

by tafih



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, College AU, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gen, Modern Era, No Bashing, Not Anti-Anyone, Postage Puns, which really should be a tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-01-13 17:10:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18473389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tafih/pseuds/tafih
Summary: Every student at Ba Sing Se University has a CPO number, well, except for the first fall semester of Katara’s junior year.Since it turns out that she’s been sharing one.





	1. Return to Sender, especially if they’re cute.

# Return to Sender, especially if they're cute.

Katara Y. is officially a junior at Ba Sing Se University, an _actual_ student in their world-renowned nursing program.

It says so, right there, on the crisp paper stock, embossed with the gold and hunter green logo.

_She got in._

“I got in!” she squeals in a tight whisper at the trembling paper in her hands, as she stands in her room, her door shut and locked behind her, for good measure. “I got in. I can’t believe I got in.”

She looks at the block of serif text again, just to be sure.  

> On behalf of the admissions board of the Ba Sing Se Undergraduate Nursing Program, we are pleased to inform you that you have been selected to join us beginning in the fall semester of this year. Enclosed with this letter are the materials you will need to complete your registration. 

She is so tempted to shriek, to scream, to demonstrate her intense excitement through the full extent of her lungs and vocal chords.

But, instead, she lets it warm and blossom in her, relishing the confirmation of her own competence before reality ruins the moment.

Because, of course, Dad freaks, but in that uber-serious way where his face makes those thin lines and starts a conversation that always leads back to him not being enough for her, especially since Mom died.

Sokka goes ballistic, threatens to lock her in a tower, like a Disney princess, then, when all else seems to fail, he asks if she wants him to die of starvation. None of the men in her life can cook a single edible meal.

Aang, well, he wouldn’t really understand.

And they’re not really talking anyway.

* * *

It takes weeks. Weeks of statistics and pleas and reassurances.

_Hey dad, did you know that all students that come out of the BSSU program end up at really prestigious hospitals?_

And, _This has been my choice school since the beginning._

And, gosh, _Sokka, just look up a recipe and maybe things will be okay._

* * *

She knows that she’s breaking their hearts, all of them. But she needs this.

She needs to know if she can do this.

Her whole life has been stagnant water of being everyone’s caretaker; and she needs to be a waterfall. She needs to take care of herself now.

Eventually, they come around and even drive her there, parking their dinky sedan in the row of BMWs and Mercedes. They carry her boxes up to her new apartment and thank the spirits, her roommate is cool and nothing like the perky/preppy girl Katara had been expecting.

Suki is the captain of the women’s soccer team and opted out of sharing an off-campus house with the other team members so that she could separate the team from her studies.

Sokka proudly introduces himself as the captain of the team at Omashu Technical; and Suki sizes him up and says, unimpressed, “I know.”

Katara loves her already.

* * *

She hugs her boys in the lobby and even though she can hear the snickers, she kisses them goodbye and repeats all of her arguments and tells them again, for the fifth time, that she will be fine.

She knows people look at her, see her skin and her clothes, will judge her unworthy to be there. But she walks back up to her room, pride in every step, and feels that her life can finally begin.

* * *

Organic Chemistry II will definitely kill her though.

Doesn’t help that she has to sit through class absolutely parched all the time, since the cute glass water bottle she ordered constantly gets lost in the mail. She could use one of the _many_ huge sports bottles Suki offers but she always forgets to grab one and fill it up.

Besides this one is really, amazingly cute. It is made out of glass, is BPA free, partial proceeds go to an ocean clean-up organization, and has little decals based off of traditional Southern Water designs.

The provider, an older SWT lady on Etsy, claims that the package has been received but she’s hasn’t gotten a pack-slip in her CPO for the past two weeks.

So she orders another one and makes a habit of checking her box when she finishes Anatomy since the CPO boxes are on the way to the cafeteria.

* * *

Surprisingly, there is always something in her CPO.

It just doesn't belong to her.

It belongs to a Zuko Y.

So figuring that he was a previous student who had the box before, Katara keeps writing _“Return to Sender”_ on the envelopes and sticks them into the outgoing mail slot, and sighs when she doesn’t see any indication that her water bottle came in. She hopes that this Zuko person will change his addresses soon.

She supposes, one day, that she could try to contact him as she writes "return to sender," _again_. But the things that are mailed to him are usually spam or offers for credit cards. Sometimes, she’ll try to picture him in her mind, imagining a preppy EN rich-boy in slim khakis, oxfords, and a coral pink button-up.

Then, to shatter that image, she’ll find some really interesting things, like a coupon book for just one tea shop. (It’s the _Jasmine Dragon_ and she’s heard that they have amazing boba tea. So she decides it wouldn’t hurt to use a coupon and yes, part of her is really guilty and the other part of her is so thankful for that free lychee jelly in her smoothie).

_Okay, maybe the button-up is green? Is that racist?_

One day, the CPO box holds a thank you card for a donation to the City Opera House. (That prompts her to look at the website and she adds her email to the mailing list, then goes see _Rigoletto_ with Suki and Hana, best forward in the district and musical-lover, one weekend. They all hate the Duke but the singing and decor were amazing. Katara cries when “La donna è mobile” leads into “V'ho ingannato” and Rigoletto weeps over his daughter. She calls her dad the next day.)

_Yeah, it’d be pink. Or, at least a very nice teal-blue._

* * *

Nine weeks into the semester, her Monday Anatomy class gets canceled. (Katara receives an email in the morning from the professor, saying that he’s sick but everyone knows Dr. Li likes those weekend glasses of so-maek a little too much.)  

Out of habit, Katara still goes to CPO, just an hour earlier this time.

She rounds the bend and sees Mr. Headphones.

* * *

Mr. Headphones is one of the few who prefers the southwest basement corner of Wan Shi Tong Library, like her. It’s a small, damp, and empty corner, with sunlight peeking in through the transom windows; and it reminds her a bit of home. It takes a lot of effort to even get there, going through hidden hallways and around a corner that's not really a corner. But Katara thinks it's worth it and frequently thanks the spirits she found a quiet and isolated place to study. 

The other frequent occupant is usually Professor Zei, head of anthropology, who strikes up a conversation with her every now and again about SWT culture. The shelves there are on the music of indigenous societies (the 780.8s and 780.9s, not really the most popular section of the DDS). 

Mr. Headphones is the cuter one of the two frequenters, usually taking the desk in the corner. 

She didn’t really think anything of him at first, with his nose buried in a political science textbook, his plain black t-shirts, his huge-ass headphones over his ears. Yet, a bit of intrigue develops when she sees the large burn across his eye; and she notes that he is still quite the looker, despite his constant grimace.

His headphones get unplugged one day, and instead of hearing heavy rock metal (like she expects), she hears Erik Satie blast from his phone; and she kind of falls in love with him for it.

* * *

Now, though, Mr. Headphones is opening _her_ CPO box.

“Ummmm...you got the wrong CPO,” she calls out to him, stepping forward, shocked to see that he opens it without qualm. _How does he know the combination?_

“No, I don’t,” he growls back, like, _literally_ growls.

Which is weird.  

“Yes, _you do_ ,” she bites. “Because that’s _my_ CPO box. _See,_ ” she reaches inside and pulls out the City Opera House catalog. He is kinda pissing her off.

“Actually, that _is_ mine,” he returns with his grimace intensifying, snatching it away. “So you’re obviously confused.” Oh, now, he is  _really_  pissing her off.

Then, realization slaps her in the face; and her frustration is replaced with horror. Katara freezes up as she stares at him. Slowly she asks, “Are you Zuko?”

He stares at her, his expression returning her stupor for his. ”Are you the one throwing out my mail?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever go through cycles of fandom? Like, just last week, I was super into Star Wars again, and now I find myself back here in the depths of hell that is ATLA and Zutara hahahaha  
> I seriously doubt anyone will read this but I thought it was a cute idea and I kinda ran with it. We'll see. I kinda wanted to practice writing out a modern romance - I might fail, but at least I tried!!  
> Like it? Let me know!


	2. Free Shipping for orders over $50 and dramatic tension

# Free Shipping for Orders over $50 and Dramatic Tension

Behind the CPO counter, Song Chae (senior, CPO Student Manager, wearer of the cutest knit sweaters) tries to calm Zuko down. She obviously knows him and how to shut him up, because she literally says, “Zuko, calm down and shut up for a second. Let me finish,” and it works.

Eventually, she sighs and says, “I’m really sorry, guys...but with your sudden re-enrollment and her transfer, I guess things just got mixed up in the system.”

“Well, can she change her number?” Zuko pushes.

“Why can’t you change yours?” Katara throws at him, affronted, thinking about all the addresses she’ll have to change. And she’s only been there nine weeks.

Before Mr. _Angry_ Headphones retorts, Song informs them that there aren’t any more open CPO boxes due to the abnormally high acceptance rate of incoming freshman that semester.

“You’re kidding me,” Zuko groans, his face falling into an open palm.

 _Geez._ Katara wonders if he’s always this dramatic, and glances at Song, who gives her a look that just says, _Yes. Yes, he is._

Then, “You know....you guys could keep sharing one?” Song suggests.

“WHAT?” They both shout in disbelief.

“Well, you guys would have to change all of your paperwork and bank statements, you know?”

“Isn’t that illegal?” Katara asks.

“Why?” Song returns with a shrug. “There are thousands of students who share this address. Besides, it makes it easier on everyone and next year,” she turns to Zuko, “you’ll graduate and it’ll all be good.”

Katara is almost tempted but she catches Zuko glowering at his friend behind the counter.  

Then, he interrogates, “Is this payback for when I borrowed your bike?”

Song’s lips wince but her eyes glint. “Zuko, you _stole_ my bike.”

“I did _not._ ”

“Well, you got it stolen. That’s pretty much the same thing.”

“I didn’t know it was going to be stolen. I just need to get to the bank!”

“Right.”

“Song, seriously...there must be something you can do?” he pleads her, albeit stiffly.

“Zuko, what’s so wrong about sharing a CPO box?”

Something dances over his expression and Katara cannot read it, but she has a sense that it might be fear. All he says is, “Song, you know what.”

_Whoa. Intense._

Song, whose expression had been sweet and playful now turned as serious as his, eventually sighs and says, “There might be a few free CPO boxes at the Grad school,” she finally provides.

“There’s a grad school?” Katara suddenly asks, then feels really stupid for asking because, _of course,_ BSSU has a graduate school.

Zuko groans again. “Fine, okay, I’ll take one.”

Song walks into the depths of the CPO office and returns with the paperwork. “Turn this into them after filling it out. And you should be good.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he says, woodenly. Song sneers at him.  

Katara feels slightly mortified and a bit guilty so begins to say, as Zuko stuffs the paper into his large messenger bag, “Look, I’m sorry...I really don’t know my way around the school and-”

“I know,” he states, throwing his bag strap over his shoulder, and not really looking at her.  

“Excuse me?”

“You’re obviously new here and - and I have a class in the grad school building so it’s not too out of the way for me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, well,” he begins, and catching Song’s smug face, he gives his friend one more glare before stalking off after a quick, “See you.”

But then, without realizing it or even thinking about it, and despite the fact that he has been interrupting her every time she talks, she calls after him.

“Can I get you a coffee?” she says when she catches up to him. “As a thank you?”

For all his stoic behavior, Katara notices that he is actually quite expressive; and right now, he expresses a little too much shock. “Thank you for what?” Oh, now a little bit of annoyance (which Katara chooses to ignore).

“For changing your CPO number...I-”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he interrupts, again, but not really out of anger, just out of efficiency. Still irks her, though.

“Sure, but I still feel a bit shitty about it,” she insists, her voice sharp and unrelenting. “And I can give you some of your mail back. I actually think I saved some of it.”

He blinks. “Oh, right, well - yeah, ok. Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Great! Do you know the _Jasmine Dragon_?”

* * *

They decide to meet there later that afternoon and, it turns out, the reason why Zuko gets all those coupon books is because his uncle is the owner and proprietor of _The Jasmine Dragon_.

Katara also learns that while Mr. Headphones is quite intense; his Uncle Iroh is super intense, in a different sort of way.

“Such a lovely young woman, nephew,” the old man warbles within the 60 seconds she sits at the table Zuko is at. And she can tangibly feel the wave of affection wafting off him. “What can I get you two, lovebirds?”

“She’s not- We’re not-, _Uncle_ ,” Zuko grunts, red tingeing his cheeks and ears. “How is it that you are always here when I am?”

“Love works in mysterious ways,” Iroh enthuses like a forlorn poet while gesturing out with the teapot in his hand. He piques to give attention to Katara, lowering the pot and lifting the lid so that she can peer into it. “It’s my latest blend. Would you care to try some, Miss…?”

“Katara,” she says, warmly, after inhaling in deeply. She is overwhelmed by the warm scents of rose and spices. “And yes, I’d love some. It smells amazing.”

“Well, Miss Katara, I’d be happy to pour you a cup.” Iroh gives her a wink and saunters off.

Zuko, his face in his hands again, mutters, “I’m sorry about him.”

“Don’t be,” she says. “I think it’s sweet.”

“Yeah, well,” he begins but never finishes.

Katara makes a face as an awkward silence begins to settle between them. “So I brought your stuff,” she forces into the air, bending down to her backpack, pulling out a manila envelope, and handing it over to him. It was the best receptacle she could find in such short notice. “ _And_ I may have used one of the coupons here, a while back,” she confesses.

“It’s fine. I barely use them,” he says flatly back to her, as he takes it. “Uncle gives me a discount anyway. These are yours, by the way.” He lifts a small paper bag over the table.

Her heart soars when she glances inside to see two tall boxes with the Etsy seller’s logo printed on the top. “It’s my water bottles! Oh my gosh, thank you! I was worried I would never get to see them.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t figure out how to send them back. And they looked important. I tried to have Song hold onto them but she said she couldn’t,” he says, a hint sheepish. Then he goes, “And I want to apologize.”

“For not making her keep my water bottles?”

“No, for -uh-” His hand rubs the back of his neck. “For accusing you of throwing out my mail. And for, interrupting you. I was...I was getting late for my next class and it hit me a little later that I was talking over you. Sorry about that.”

Katara tilts her head, and she is certain she is making that confused-sparrowkeet face that her brother always comments on, with her eyes wide and blinking. She had not expected an apology. “Oh, no, it’s - well, it’s _not fine_ but thanks.” If Sokka apologized for talking over her (or for anything stupid he did, really), the earth would stop spinning. The pleasant shock of his apology manifests from her in the form a soft smile. And she says, “Guess I got you pegged pretty well.”

That prompts him to make a face. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen you in the library a few times. Figured you’d be one of those emo kids with hidden depths. I think I hit the mark.” Then she pauses. _Oh shit._ What if he thinks she is stalking him?

But he scoffs, and he rolls his eyes a bit. “No, I’m just awkward.”

“You’re not that awkward,” she asserts pointedly, tilting forward in her chair as if it cements her point. “But I guess the whole opera thing is weird. Why do you go? I’ve never met a boy who goes to the opera or makes a _donation_.”

“My mom’s a singer,” he explains quietly, his fingers edging the table.

“Really?”

“Yeah, Ursa Noh.” The name screams familiarity in her head.

“Oh my gosh, that’s - wait - was she in _Rigoletto_?”

“She’s the resident soprano at the COH. She played Gilda,” he says, taking a sip while Katara vividly remembers the beautiful soprano, (like, even from row HH, Katara could tell that this woman was beautiful). Her range, her expression, her stage presence absolutely overwhelmed Katara with awe when that first aria started.

And all she can say is, “Dude. She is _incredible_.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty awesome.” A gentle and almost sad smile forms at one corner of his lips. “You saw it?”

Sudden shyness washes over her and she ducks into her shoulders a bit.  “I did. The thank you card you got, got me looking into it. And my roommate’s friend is super into opera and musicals so we ended up going for one of those student nights.”

“That’s when I’ll usually go too.”

Before Katara could ask him more, a server (dressed in black, rocking a dark maroon lip, and wearing a nametag that says, “June”) brings them their drinks. “‘Sup, prince pouty,” she snarks as she sets down their cups and shoves his hair around. “On the house, _again,_ like that surprises anybody.”

“Fuck off, June,” he snarls, batting her away.

She gives him the finger. “Whatever, angry boy.” She turns to Katara, her full attention a frightening force, and says, pointing to the beverage, “I got you a to-go cup if you need to make a run for it.” Then she walks away.

Katara blushes a bit when he shouts after her, rising a few inches off his chair. “She’s not-!” But the server is already at another table and he gives up.

“Sister?” Katara asks.

“Oh, spirits no,” he immediately says, horrified she would even suggest it. “What makes you think that?”

She points at the server and back at him. “This is how conversations between my brother and I usually go.”

“Is this normal?”

“I mean, sure, we’re siblings.” She takes her first sip of her tea and it is the perfect fall beverage. Tones of orange, roses, and cinnamon flush her senses.

“This is nothing how my sister and I act,” he mutters as he takes a sip.  

“Well, how do you and your sister act then?”

His lips purse together for a moment and he looks down at his coffee. “We don’t really talk.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up anything.” She instinctively reaches over the table and nearly makes it to his hand when something catches his attention and he mutters, “Oh shit.”

Out of habit and curiosity, Katara turns around to see a girl (short, dark skin, lululemon leggings, a North Face jacket) walk into the cafe and lock eyes with Zuko. The girl smiles and Katara feels a cold chill run down her spine.

The predator in tights immediately beelines for their table, and to Katara, it feels like being an antelope watching a lion approach. Before she even reaches them, she cheerfully says, “Oh my gosh, Zuko! It’s been so long.” She leans in for a hug and Zuko turns to stone under her embrace. She eventually lifts up but a hand remains on his shoulder.   

“Oh, hey...Krisha...” he stutters out, eyeing the hand and stiffening more when she makes no indication of moving.

Katara just watches, slightly amused, as she drinks her tea.

“How are you?” Krisha asks, her hand traipsing back and forth across his shoulder.

“I - I’m good. Uh, this is my girlfriend,” he says stiffly, gesturing out to Katara, who manages to steel herself and her expression. She is tempted to say otherwise but then his eyes seem to scream, _Help._

Katara sighs silently, then introduces herself. “Hi, I’m Katara.” She sticks out her hand for her to shake and all the brightness in Krisha’s eyes suddenly disappears.

“Hi.” She finally draws her hand away from Zuko and shakes Katara’s. Then with forced sweetness, she asks, “How’d you two meet?” Obvious disbelief tainting her expression and tone.

“Oh, his mother introduced us, actually,” Katara returns with more expertly veiled sweetness, even throws in a shy smile for his benefit.

“Really? You’re an opera singer?” she asks, still perky but Katara can sense the incredulity.

“Dance choreographer, actually. Professional water-dancer,” Katara provides smoothly. She catches his expression. Thankfully, he doesn’t look too shocked by what she is saying; in fact, he looks impressed.

Katara is nothing if not adaptable, and this Krisha-girl obviously upsets Zuko. So she goes with it. “When his mom found out I was transferring to Ba Sing Se, she connected us and well, now we’re here.”

“Oh, you transferred? What major?”

“Nursing.”

“That’s awesome. You know, you might know my boyfriend, _Chan_?” She says this like Katara ought to know whatever crazy ass would be willing to date her. “Actually,” she chuckles, “He’s my ex now but we’re still really good friends. He’s in that program. You’ve probably seen him. Did you know he’s a Calvin Klein model?”

Katara is using all of her self-control to not deadpan. “No, sorry, I don’t think I know him.”

Krisha laughs suddenly, “Oh my gosh, I’m such a dunce. Right, he’s in your pre-med program,” then she peers down at Katara, expectantly, and adds, “like, I’m in pre-med too. But I go to Kasai.”

Katara wants to gag.

Kasai Women’s College is a neighboring campus for the daughters of elite upper-class snobs. BSSU does joint events with them so Katara runs into their kind every so often. Most of them are harmless, but Krisha is a cut above.

“That’s cool,” Katara returns the perky quality but she lets the conversation end there, with her perfected Customer Service smile.

This time Katara relishes the silence that invades their space until Krisha finally goes, “I’ll see you around then, Zuko.” Then she walks up to line at the counter.

“Wow,” Katara whispers at him, her irritation finally free to show through. She leans over the table, and conspires, “Wanna leave before she gets her drink?”

“Yes,” he concedes, a little too quickly. Then with the urgency and swiftness of trained assassins, they collect their things and rush out of the shop. “I owe you one.”

“What is her problem?” Katara asks, taking one more frustrated sip of her tea as they stalk down the sidewalk.

A weird and labored breath leaves his lips. Then his gaze falls on her, maintaining, and in Katara, it generates heat. His eyes are gold. “You… you have no idea who I am, huh?”

With her willpower, she pushes aside the abrupt and _completely uncalled for_ emotions that had come over her. “What? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, it shouldn’t but it does,” he states, cryptically. Then asks, “You really water-dance?”

“Yep! Got first at State during high school,” she explains, a proud lilt to her tone. They are down the block by this point and walking through the University Square, a large and open town plaza that connects BBSU, Kasai, and the Republic Institute of Technology.

The October air is brisk and energizing. The trees that line the square are poetically exploding with color, and Katara cannot help but to skip a little bit before her escort.

Then, a figure with a familiar gait and an all-too-recognizable mass of hair saunters into her view.

She stops in her tracks and Zuko almost bumps into her. “You alright?”

Now, it’s her turn to say, “Oh, shit.” She turns on her heels and her heartbeat starts hammering.

“What?”

Panic stampedes from her stomach to her heart and back down; and she looks up to him and asks, “Wanna pay me back?”

“What?”

She starts speaking quickly, “For acting like your girlfriend. Could you return the favor? Like _right_ **_now_**.”

He is, reasonably, taken aback. “What? How?”

“Because there’s a guy that I went on two dates with and he won’t leave me alone. And he’s coming this way.”

Zuko peers over her, recognition flashes across his features, and then he returns his gaze to her, a twinge of judgment in his eyes. “You dated _Jet_?” he asks, but it rings more of an accusation.

Her sense of alarm and surprise skyrockets. “I -” she starts but it gets caught in her throat. “You know him? And we didn’t _date._ We went out a few times.”

“Yeah, alright, he saw you, by the way,” Zuko informs her, but she can catch that tiny little smirk of his. But she has more pressing problems than to worry about why Mr. Headphones is laughing at her pain when she was so helpful just a few minutes ago.

“Oh, good Yue up above,” she seethes, bracing to turn around and face her horror.

But then, he steps closer to her, a protective and calming hand tentatively hovers over her shoulder. “You sure you want to do this?” he asks.

“He literally won’t leave me alone. I doubt he’s the type to back off because a girl asks him politely.”

“Jet’s an ass,” Zuko acknowledges tightly.

Then, since they were speaking of the devil, Jet’s voice pierces through the clamor of the square, “Katara, that you?”

“Ok, we’re doing this,” she announces and a manic energy bursts out of her so, even though she has her tea in one hand and the bag of her Etsy water bottles in the other, she manages to grab the collar of his jacket, right beneath where his headphones rest around his neck, and pulls him down enough so that she can plant her lips on his.  

And the world stops for a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that. I made them kiss in the second chapter muahahaha  
> Thought the lululemon monster would be Azula, Ty Lee, or Mai?? HAHAHA no! That happens way too much and I needed a much more threatening and convincing motivator for Zuko's legitimate fears. Also, if anyone thinks that Krisha is unbelievable or a trope within herself. Let me just tell you, the girl who inspired Krisha said ALL OF THOSE THINGS to me. Would even show me pictures of her ex (who wasn't that good-looking, I'll be honest).  
> And since this is inspired by "To All the Boys I Loved Before," I thought a character analogy to Gen would be fitting. 
> 
> If you couldn't tell, this Zuko is more of a Season 3 variety, kinda super-aware of his faults to the point where he is unsure of himself and we'll get more into his tragic backstory a little later. Also, Song is a little OOC but we don't get a lot of screentime with her anyways. I imagine she and Zuko were friends for a while, even despite the bike (ostrich horse) stealing. 
> 
> Hmmm, what else, oh, the square is inspired by the college district of Seoul, where Yonsei, Ewha Women's University, and something else that starts with an S is - lots of great restaurants, food stands, and fun. 
> 
> Let me know if you like the direction this is going!


	3. Free returns still cost something

# Free returns still cost something

Katara has only kissed four boys in her life. (If you exclude her brother and dad).

  1. Maruq, because he was the cutest boy in second grade; he liked her back; and they kissed in those tube things you crawl through in the jungle gym at school.
  2. Aang, because they were dating for most of high school.
  3. Jet, because she thought he was charming after that first date and he went for it.
  4. And now, Zuko, (who is, by all means and definitions, a complete stranger) because _apparently,_ she is insane.



It hits her, then, in the middle of the _very public_ University Square, that she should have no reason to jump him like this because she really isn’t that type of person to just kiss someone because the guy you had an awkward second date with shows up.

But, now, she guesses she is that type of person.

Even if it is just a peck, just her lips pressing his for one second (alright, it might have been at least five). Just enough to convince Jet to back off then she pulls back immediately, but not too far, and she opens her eyes to look her thanks.

His face, despite all the expressions she has seen him show in the last five hours alone, is a blank (which kind of freaks her out but then again, she is the one who jumped him).

“Thank you,” she finally says.

Zuko just blinks. “Yeah,” he mutters.

Then she runs away, too quickly to even hear Jet call after her or see that Aang was sitting on a bench and had seen the whole thing, a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

* * *

Or that Zuko had quietly said, “You’re welcome.” And that his cheeks burned red.

* * *

Then, the proverbial shit hits the proverbial fan.

Well, at least on social media. But she doesn’t find out until an hour after the fact.

Because when Katara finally makes it to her dorm room in the junior apartments, she tries not to think about her crazy (and somewhat awful) behavior by prepping for her organic chemistry quiz.

Then, an hour into cramming alkane molecular formulas and formations into her brain, Suki nearly crashes the door down, runs to her, grabs her by the shoulders, and shouts in her face, “DID YOU MAKE OUT WITH ZUKO?”

Katara just stares at her.

(So, Sokka would make Katara play Mario Kart with him, every now and again, and at this moment, this insane moment, in which her beautiful, buff roommate is staring at her in awe and shock, Katara will hear those three beeps that sound off before the karts will race down the digital track.)

(Beep. Beep. BEEP.)

“How do you know this?” Katara nearly screams back. Fear, dread, absolute terror and curiosity are all fighting for dominance in her emotional state.

Then, Suki shows her a video of her _kissing him_ in the square and the caption reads:  

 

> _HAS PRINCE ZUKO FINALLY MOVED ON? NEW CAMPUS? NEW ROMANCE?_

“What the fuck is this?” She turns to Suki and in the same tone of shock and disbelief, “Why is this a thing?”

* * *

So while Katara had not recognized Zuko’s name on its own, she recognized his father’s.

Ozai Y. is one of those business magnates-trying-to-turn-into-politicians, the current CFO of _Phoenix_ (the largest tech and computer conglomerate in the world), **_and_ ** one of the remaining members of the Fire Nation Imperial Family.

“Which means that Zuko is pretty much a prince,” Suki supplies, standing over her, arms taut vertically on the back of her chair. They both are looking at Katara's computer, which is open to the online article which includes the embedded and looping instagram video of her reaching up and kissing Zuko. 

She groans. 

“More like a duke,” Katara adds, to the help of no argument whatsoever, as her horror begins spreading throughout her body. She begins to rub her temples and groans, watching the clip of her and Zuko repeat itself on her laptop screen over and over again, taunting her of her indiscretion. “What have I done?”

She also cannot believe the emotional high she feels at the fact that he had wrapped his arms around her and she didn't even notice. It does make her feel  _a little_ better. 

“No one knows it’s you. At least, not now,” Suki says reassuring, reaching over and scrolling down to the comments. “I only did because of your hair loopie-thingies.”

“It won’t take people too long, though. Oh my gosh, what do I do?” Katara yips, “I really don’t have time for this either, I have an Orgo quiz on Wednesday.”

Suki smirks. “I love that you still have your priorities.”

“This isn’t funny, Suki. I do not have time to get sucked into all of this.” Her concerns drown her head in the form of a persistent headache.

“Why’d you do it then? And did you really have no idea who he was?”

“No! And Jet was there and just, I panicked,” Katara explains.

“Oh,” she replies in a way that suggests that Katara needn’t explain any further.

Jet is the captain of the BSSU lacrosse team. They had met in the gym and he was funny, confident, and (frankly) pretty hot.

She should have known better than to date a guy three weeks into her first semester at a new school.

She also should have known better than to grab a guy and kiss him before knowing he’s royalty.

“Okay,” Katara asserts, loudly, and mostly to herself. “What time is it?” She looks at the analog clock on the wall, showing that is a quarter after six.

He might be at the library.

Katara stands, decidedly. “I’m going to fix this,” she announces.

Suki cocks a brow, “What is there to fix?”

Katara is not even too sure what the correct answer is to that question. All she knows is that whatever this (the kiss, the publicity, the _celebrity_ ) is, she needs to fix it before it conflicts with her academics.

She dons her battle armor.

She throws her BSSU hoodie on, pulls up the hood over her thick hair, and draws the strings way too close together. She knows she looks ridiculous but she cannot risk anything at this point. She gets to her bike and circles around the campus to the library. She parks it, quickly notices that someone else has parked and locked the same exact bike (just with a handlebar basket), just three slots to the right, and makes a mental note to distinguish them when she heads out.

She stalks right through the front doors, turns right through the computer labs, past the Writing Center, makes a left at the forgotten drawers of the card catalog, goes down a hall of library offices, takes a door to her left, walks down the stairs that look like they should have been installed in an abandoned asylum, then out and down a sloping ramp, through some more doors, then a right, walks into the Music section with the small cubicles of listening devices, then to her little haven.

And he is not there.

After another quick moment of panic, she decides to leave a note, walking off to grab one of the scrap pieces of paper from the little stack next to a bunch of those tiny pencils at the catalog computer terminal. She starts with, “I am so sorry,” then pauses, thinking of what to do, eventually she writes:

 

> I am so sorry. If I had known, I wouldn’t have done anything like that. Could I apologize in person and come up with a game plan? I am not used to this. Tomorrow morning? Here? At 8AM?

Then she signs it, _CPO Girl_ , scrounges up some tape and sticks it on the vertical edge of the desk she has seen him sitting at.

* * *

She is there at 7:55 AM and the note is gone, but on his usual chair, there’s a similar piece of paper that reads:  

 

> OK

_Oh, thank God._

She sits down, pulling out her flashcards to go through them while she waits. After a few minutes, she hears a “Hey.”

She looks up. Mr. Headphones-Who-Is-Actually-A-Prince is standing precariously in front of her, like a tenuous bamboo stalk. “Hey,” she returns.

He wears monochromatic grey and white t-shirt, this time, beneath an open dark maroon zip-up hoodie. His headphones sit around his neck and over his clavicle with an easy grace.

At most, his ensemble screams middle class. Not, a spoiled rich-kid (who is also related to royalty).

His humility is effortless.

His awkwardness is paramount, though. He looks askance then back at her, as if he had no idea what to say. Then he goes, “I knew I recognized you from somewhere. This...this spot’s pretty nice, huh?”

“Yeah, quiet,” she responds while he sits down at the opposite side of the table.

“Yeah...so uh, hey,” he begins again.

So she decides to establish things first and goes, “I am so sorry. I...I don’t know how hard the publicity thing is but I’m assuming it is and I’m sure I didn’t help.” Her lips purse together and then guilt flashes over her again. “Also, the consent thing, so…”

He smirks at that. “Yeah, not every day you get jumped by a waterbender.”

“Alright,” she says with a roll of her eyes, unable to keep herself from laughing.

“You’ve seen the tabloids, then?” he asks. (Do people still use the word, “tabloid”?)

“Yep.” She nods, thinking about the various headlines she investigated to see if they had gotten her name yet. They hadn’t but it’s only been twenty hours. “I had no idea this was going to become a huge thing and just-I’m sorry.”  

“I know you don’t need to apologize again. Really.” He looks sincere, which Katara appreciates, but also subdued. There is something flat about his expression today.

“Alright,” she says and a smile comes up on her face, without her realizing it. Then the anxieties of her initial dilemma returns so she asks, “So what do we do? Should I just stay in my dorm room for the rest of semester? Make sure we never run into each other again? I mean, if we avoid each other, it should be fine eventually, right? Just do what we were doing before?”

“Actually, I-” he starts. His face pinches together in arduous thought then looks straight at her and says, “So I’ve been thinking about this and I think this actually works out in my favor.”

“How?" She really is confused. 

He doesn’t really answer that question and goes, “What do you think about ….continuing?”

Her mind stalls.

And it never does.

“What?”

He shrinks a bit into his shoulders. “Continuing to pretend that we’re together.”

“What? Why?”

“So I’m assuming you know who my dad is now, right?”

“Yeah?” Katara is now very confused. _How does his dad factor into this?_ “Zuko...what are you trying to say?”

His face and expression twinges with emotion. “My dad has controlled every single aspect and detail of my life, including who I date.”

“Okay?”

“He’s - well - through my sister - has been pestering me about going back to FNU, which what I decidedly did _not_ want to do. In addition to trying to force me back together with my ex - who is seeing someone else at the moment. Do you know who my ex is?”

“No? Some heiress, I’m assuming?”

“Yeah, well, she’s the daughter of someone pretty big back home and when we broke up.” he pauses, thinking of how to proceed and Katara could not help but notice that he still called it home. “...anyway, my father just-”

“ _Oh_.” She connects the dots for him, especially considering that Ozai is running for office the next year.

“So now he’s trying to set me up with a bunch of other girls who have political party ties.”

“Your dad is using you as a way to get financial support for his campaign.”

“Pretty much.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah,” he admits. 

“And?”

“Well, I don’t want him to. So that’s why I’m wondering if you could still pretend to be my girlfriend.” The request, now a little more clear to her, causes her to tense. He continues, “As one last door closed for him. Prove to him that he doesn’t have any control of my life.”

The conflicts in her mind are numerous and undefinable. She really does not know what to think. “Zuko, does...is this really the right way of doing this? Shouldn’t you, I don’t know, talk to your dad about this?”

His eyes narrow and his hand flinches up, as if to cover his burned eye and instantly, Katara lifts her hand to cover her mouth, and it should have been her foot.

“I-” she startles. The guilt she feels now is so much greater compared to whatever she might have felt earlier.

He shakes his head. “No, it’s-”

“You don’t…”

“I-” He stops himself. His gaze is brought down and she can see the burden grow even heavier on his shoulders.

Her heart shatters, fully, at this point. “Zuko, I’m so sorry. I...shouldn’t have assumed. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Just -” he pauses. Then, his gaze lifts up to meet hers, looking as if he had been caught in a perpetual storm. “Could you think about it?”

“Of course.”

* * *

She says this, but tries to push it out of her mind.

She literally does not have time to deal with all these intense feelings, with guilt being at the forefront. Her goal has always been to graduate at least magna cum laude, then to be the top RN at Kariwase Hospital back home.

Katara has planned nearly every step it would take to get to her goal. Pretending to be in a relationship is not one of those steps.

She slows to a stop by the card catalog, engrossed in her train of thought. Because that always-present voice in her head reminds her that before her ambition, her goal was always to help people who need her.

She wants to help him. The brief moments of time they have had together, she has enjoyed his company. He has been nothing but respectful with her and he obviously has issues with his family.

But being the fake girlfriend of a prince is beyond her sphere of competence and understanding.

After a beleaguered sigh, she continues walking.

She steps out of the library and starts bounding down the steps when she sees him.

* * *

Aang.

* * *

Her heart sinks, perhaps even lower than before. 

"Oh no." 

* * *

Aang was the boy next door.

Her first boy friend and boyfriend. 

Who she even babysat for a few times.

Then in high school, he kissed her and she didn’t dislike it - so they ended up dating when she was a sophomore and he was a freshman.

They stayed together for almost all of their time at Southern High, and nearly into college since they both got into Omashu Tech.

He was always sweet, tender, and pliant.

His smile brightened the world. He loved everyone and everyone loved him.

Above all other things, he loved her. He loved her so  _so_ much. 

 _‘How could she not love him?’_ was the question she always asked herself.

But then, eventually, she could not answer that question.

It was not that Katara stopped liking him.

In fact, if she were being completely honest, Katara still loves him. She has always loved Aang.

But when they were dating, Katara stopped liking herself, whenever she was with him. 

His whole universe revolved around her. He went to Omashu for her, wanted to pursue a PA degree for her, liked whatever she liked, agreed with whatever she wanted. 

She was his bright and shining star, and he adored orbiting around her. 

But she could never be that stationary and she could never ask him to continue doing that. The moon could never be the sun. 

Aang had been the only one who knew that she had applied for her transfer to Ba Sing Se and he kept asking why.

_Why did she want to leave?_

_Why did she want to go someplace new?_

_Why didn’t she love him the way he loved her?_

* * *

All questions she could never give a straight answer to.

She still can’t.

And when she sees him out there, obviously waiting for her, continuing to orbit her, she knows that she needs to break his heart again. And it kills her. 

It kills her.

It always hurts so much more than she has ever let on. But there is one thing that she knows to be true: they deserve a chance to be better outside of each other.

She had said this when she suggested they break things off. It drove them both to tears but Katara knew the truth of it, she had hoped Aang would see it too. 

But there he stands, lingering around the bike rack, like a little canary-quail, bobbing its head around and looking for its mate. 

* * *

So she turns around and walks back into the library. 

* * *

Zuko is still there when she rushes into the space. Even with his headphones on, he flinches at her entrance and looks up in shock to see her. She knows that her person is aflame with new determination.

Because, at least for now, they can help each other out.

“Let’s do it,” she announces.  

“What?” He lifts an earphone off.

“Pretend to be dating.”

“And your sudden change in opinion?” he asks, genuinely wondering. 

She sighs, her soul deflating too. “I saw my ex-boyfriend outside.”

“Oh,” is all he says and she is grateful he doesn’t pry.

“But we need some ground rules.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“No kissing unless pre-arranged. NO SEX-”

“Yeah, don’t worry about that.”

“-no groping.”

He lifts a hand up, as if he were a student asking a question. “Just don’t treat you like shit?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

“Then we got a deal.” She sticks out her hand for him to shake, expecting him to laugh it off.

But he takes it, very seriously.

And, she kind of likes that about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEW! This took a while, but forgive me, I've been going through a romcom moment myself O_O  
> Who else can say they've been stuck on a plane next to a cute hotshot CEO, who keeps asking them out?! It's been CRAZY!!! 
> 
> Anyways, this is more of a transitional chapter with more meat coming in later.


	4. You’ve Got Mail/A Male!

# You’ve Got Mail/A Male!

Five weeks before the end of the semester, Katara still keeps to her typical schedule and swings by the CPO after Anatomy.

Nowadays, though, there is _always_ something addressed to her.

Today, she opens it and a rush of something floral bursts from the small space. Her box has been smelling of flowers lately. She reaches in to unsheath a delicate fire lily with a note attached to its stem.    

> _Library at 4?_

She smiles as she reads the card. She takes a whiff of the lily before reaching in to grab her other mail.

Every week, there has been a flower, or sometimes even a full bouquet. Notes are usually attached and sometimes, the occasional Tennyson poem written in his chicken scratch. Zuko is a natural romantic. (A bit _too_ much of a romantic, she honestly thinks. It makes her smile nonetheless).

He had explained that his ex never really liked that kind of stuff: flowers, notes, chocolates, little affectionate gestures. But these were all things he did or made for his mom (and for his sister when they were much younger). So he has been enjoying pulling out the stops for this and Katara does not mind at all.

Some girl behind squeals, “Oh _God_ , she’s so lucky.”

As she tucks the flower into her bag as delicately as she can to preserve it, Katara feels that she did luck out. Her “relationship” with Zuko has reaped many unforeseen benefits for her, mostly in that she does not have to worry about romance interfering with the rest of her life. (Read as: her studies).

Guys no longer stop her in the middle of hallways or sit next to her in the Commons, even when she makes it clear that she wants to eat or study alone. She hasn’t seen Jet or Aang, either.

Suki, furthermore, no longer feels obligated to drag Katara out to parties or set her up on dates since Katara can always just say, “Oh, I’m meeting up with Zuko tonight.”

Then, if she needs a hard out, she’ll text him and they meet in that little cove in the library.

They also meet there when they have to collaborate on game plans.

* * *

Typically, Zuko will recommend a public date on an upcoming Saturday.

Katara will then check her schedule, make sure she does not have a test or labs that may interfere and will confirm the date.

Then they both will suggest certain activities. By mid-November, they have gone out on three major public dates ([1] brunch and a movie, [2] a walk in the park, and [3] dinner at a really nice sushi restaurant).

Zuko even posted a few photos on Instagram that insinuated her presence but did not confirm anything outright (photos of his dinner plate with her hands folded in the background, a shot of his latte with her profile in the reflection in the window, captions that indicate that he is in good and lovely company, etc.)

She insists on going dutch for everything but he always manages to pay the bill before her.

_Damn._

She realizes on her way back to her dorm, that she has all the perks of a boyfriend without any of the drama.

She is _incredibly_ lucky.

* * *

“I’m the lucky one,” Zuko argues after they make plans to go to the Philharmonic, Sunday evening.  

“How? This has been so one-sided. And I didn’t even pay for your coffee that first time,” she counters.  

He snorts, not looking away from his book on Eastern Colonialism. Zuko is not a Poli-Sci major, as Katara had thought, but an IR major. “There’s a lot of overlap,” he would explain when she asked.

His concentration is in Peace and Conflict; and he plans on going into Humanitarian Law. (It is all the little surprises like this that just endear him more to her. And she hates it.)

“You saved me from Krisha. That counts as one for you. And, I don't know, I think you’re easy to be around,” he submits as evidence. (And again, how can he say these things so easily?)

“I…” she scoffs out her disbelief, in hopes it would disguise her gratitude. “My brother would disagree. But that’s hardly a reason,” is her rebuttal.

“Katara,” he says, his frustration bleeding through his tone. (She hates that her name sounds great off his lips. Even when he is frustrated.) “You have no idea how much I needed…”

He stops himself. He always starts things, starts with so much passion and emotion and then something else takes over and it all dissipates. He huffs and settles further into his chair. “It’s rare for me to have people like you in my life.”

“A nerd who you can’t even let pay for one meal?” she quickly ripostes.

He smirks, but only just. “I thought you needed to finish that.” He points at her obnoxiously large packet of industrially stapled A4 papers riddled with formulas and near-impossible blank spaces.

Thankfully, she’s halfway through it. “Not really, it’s actually due next week.”

“You really are a nerd.”

She shoots him an icy glare and he raises his hands, his book dropping flat against his chest.

“Your words; not mine.”

She scowls, prompting him to release a small chuckle before returning to his text. Quickly, her mind returns to his comment. “I still maintain that I’m the one gaining the most out of this. It doesn’t feel very balanced.”

The return to the initial argument yields a contemplative yet comfortable silence. Katara finishes that page then glances up to see Zuko lowering his gaze back down to his book.

“Alright,” he finally says. “Then you can buy dinner this time.”

“Thank you,” she snaps. “And instead of ‘nerd,’ you can call me ‘friend,’ right?” she gives back, as she turns the page and pretends to write something in the corner.

“That’s why _I’m_ the lucky one. Who else gets to be friends with the most annoying, stubborn, argumentative nursing major in the world?”

Her head tilts as her eyes darken and he attempts to cover up his snickering.

(She hates how easy it is between them.)

(So, maybe she hates that she might be actually...)

(NOPE.)

She shakes her head. She does not have time for an actual romance. That is why this arrangement works out so well.

Besides, she has lab work to finish.

* * *

When she reaches her room later that night, and collapses onto the couch, Katara gets a call from Sokka.

Which begins with him screeching, “YOU TRAITOR!”

Katara just closes her eyes and waits for him to finish his banshee screaming. Meanwhile, Suki, who’s wearing her earbuds, mouths from the other end of the room, _What was that?_

 _My brother,_  Katara mouths back.

Sokka goes on, “Of _all_ the people you could date, you date HIM?”

“Sokka, calm down,” she says.

“His dad bulldozed Gran-Gran’s house-”

“Yeah, I know, Sokka.”

“-And you’re boning him?!”

She jerks up. “I’m what? What the hell- No, I’m not. And who says that anymore?”

“So you _are_ boning him?”

“Sokka. NO. I am not.” She feels a migraine coming. 

“But you do admit you’re dating him?”

Katara groans and she feels her brows pinch together. “Sokka,” she finally asks, “How did you find out?”

“You know that social media exists, right?” he snarks back. “That, unlike you, people like to go and engage with the world and talk about other people and those other people include the freaking prince of the Fire Nation!”

“He’s technically a duke,” she mutters under her breath. She was regretting this moment for a while. Her status reads as “It’s complicated” on the social media platform she does keep but leave it to Sokka, whose entire social life relies on the internet and soccer, to find out about something she was hoping her family would never notice.

“Who cares?” Sokka shouts, his voice cracking as it usually does when he overreacts. “He’s still the son of the guy who tried to buy out and/or  _decimate_ our entire culture.”

“Zuko is not his father and we’re…” she sighs, wondering if she needs to lie to him too. “It’s not that serious.”

“NOT THAT SERIOUS?”

Katara is regretting so much, right now.

Sokka rampages, “He’s a freaking _prince_ , Katara. He probably calculated and manipulated all of this to-”

“Sokka,” she shouts over him. “He’s not that kind of guy. He hates Ozai as much as we do. Maybe even more. Besides, he doesn’t know about what happened at-”

Suddenly, a distinct and loud “SUGAR QUEEN!” pierces through the concrete walls. “LET ME IN!”

 _The sun and moon and stars, WHY?_ This day started off so well too. Katara groans into her free hand.

“What was that?” Sokka asks.

“Your girlfriend,” she returns facetiously.

“What? Suki?” he chirps, a little too hopefully and Katara’s soul mourns for him. Just a bit though.  

“No, _spirits_ , Sokka. It’s Toph. I gotta call you back.”

“Oh,” he says, too obviously deflated. “Fine but we are not done talking about this, alright?”

“ _Alright_ , just don’t tell dad, okay?” Katara orders as she walks up to open the door to let Toph in. “I’m hanging up now,” she informs him then taps the end call button with a huff.

She stares at her guest, the terror of Ba Sing Se herself, the notorious Toph Beifong.

* * *

How to describe Toph Beifong (crazy person, 5 feet ~~tall~~ short, screamer).

You really can’t.

Especially if you just read about her in her dad’s Wikipedia page (Lao Beifong: old money type, BSSU’s biggest donor, head of Zaofu Industries).

Toph Beifong is usually touted as the poor, little, and helpless blind daughter of a rich man. She’s the reason why the university is the most handicap-accessible campus in the world.

But, if anyone really knows Toph Beifong, they would know she is not poor (since she is loaded), little (in that her personality is large as fuck), and she is far from helpless (because she is the most hardcore person on the planet).

Katara merely knows Toph Beifong as a BSSU sophomore, a geology major, and (apart from Sokka) the biggest pain in the ass.

She met the girl through Aang and they had met at camp (though Sokka says they actually all met at an underground wrestling tournament, which _sure, Sokka, I totally believe that_ ).

“Hi Toph,” Katara says, signaling to her that the door was open.

“Took you long enough,” Toph snarks, her probing cane thrashing about until it smacks Katara in the thigh.

Katara sighs. She has had a few “loving” bruises thanks to Toph.

Toph grins. “Oh, _I’m sorry_. Did I accidentally hit you?”

“Just come inside,” Katara groans, tempering herself.

“Heard you had another date with Sparky,” Toph tosses nonchalantly as she steps inside and makes her rehearsed way to the couch.

Toph had actually known Iroh, and by extension, Zuko or “Sparky”, since her youth, being part of that elite circle of rich and powerful families. And, like Zuko, Toph had rejected their society as much as she could.

Toph lands on the couch with great clamor and Suki says, “Hey, Toph,” from her place at her desk.  

“Hi,” Toph replies curtly, which something Katara is about to comment on, but then she asks, “You guys fuck, yet?”

Katara huffs then shuts the door. “No. Don’t say it like that and _why_ do people keep asking me that?”

“You’re missing out, Sweetness. I heard he’s _really_ good.”

Katara is thankful that Toph cannot see how frustrated or how red her face is turning. But then Toph smirks her little imp smirk and Katara wonders if she can. “What brings you here today, Toph?” She tries to keep her voice level.

“Oh, just that my dad called me again to see if I could invite Zuko over for dinner,” Toph says flippantly as she kicks off her shoes and spreads her toes around.

Katara groans (because of Toph’s perpetual disgustingness and because of what she said). “And?”

“ _And_ , I said that he was screwing a friend of mine and that-”

“-Toph, please, for the love of anything holy-” (Though, Katara is a split-second glad that Toph actually does consider her as a friend.)

“-as much as I think Sugar Queen is a weirdo, she doesn’t deserve having her boyfriend paraded around like a piece of meat and-” (There it goes.)

“Toph,” she tries to say over her.  

“- _then_ he asked if you guys were serious. And that’s when I realized that I really didn’t know. So I hung up and came here and, _well,_ ” Then she pauses and directs her face to Katara. “Are you?”

At this point, Suki had also completely removed her earbuds and is watching Katara for her answer.

Anxiety washes over her, that same kind someone gets when they are asked a simple question and for some reason, they cannot think of the correct answer, even when they know it. But in this case, she doesn’t know the right answer. She doesn't know even if there is an answer. 

Does she have the right to claim Zuko as hers?

Can she say that they are serious? They didn’t even talk about that yet. It’s not official on any of their social media and now Katara is wondering if it should be. But Zuko had made a point that it was to protect her from paparazzi and his dad; and that everything should be fine if it is implied that he is seeing someone.

But what if he does end up liking someone else?

What if she does?

What if they don't...

What if it does become serious?”

“I…” she begins. Then she falters, especially as she thinks about the fact that she has kind of liked Zuko all along and that it always surprises her how much in sync they can be.

Finally, she says, “I don’t know.”

And she really doesn’t know.

* * *

Sunday comes far too quickly.

She hasn’t had the time to figure things out for herself yet. But part of her also reminds herself that she doesn’t have to worry about it. That was the point of this entire relationship anyway.

They keep up the right level of appearances until his dad backs off or when they mutually decide to.

So, she decides to just have fun at the Philharmonic and then get midnight burritos when they make it back from the city.

_Just enjoy it._

_Have fun with it._

_Don’t think about it._

“It” isn’t even real.

At least she does not have to worry about what to wear. Katara has been saving a long shin-length dress with a band collar for the right occasion. The Philharmonic is perfect and this dress is even more perfect. The sleeves come to her elbows and the color is a deep navy. It is simple, blue, and immensely flattering. She had found it in the clearance section and when she tried it on in the dressing room, then stepped out to see it in the bigger mirror, a little old lady saw her and literally gasped. She knew she had to buy it.

So she did and now, she is wearing it for the first time, ~~on a date~~.

She steps out into the lobby of the dorm and sees his silhouette by the chairs near the back doors. Even with his back turned to her, his hair slicked down, his shoulders bearing a shirt in a color and collar he never wears; she just knows it’s him.

“Hey, stranger,” she announces when she approaches.

He turns up and his eyes catch on her form. “Wow,” he whispers.

Her chest feels like static as he stands, his gaze still fixed on her. For a second, and just for one insignificantly significant second, as he smiles at her and she knows she is smiling back, Katara forgets that it isn’t real.

“What?” she asks, forcing a frown.

“Nothing, just -” he offers with a small smile. “You look nice.”

“Thanks.”

“You wore your hair down,” he comments. His face is a blank that she cannot read or give an answer to. 

“Yeah,” she mutters, suddenly feeling shy.  

“You look really nice. It’s really flattering.”

 _Oh dear lord._ Her heart cannot take this. “Do you rehearse these lines?” she snarks at him.

He blinks, caught off guard. “Oh...I...no...I just….I thought this is what you’re supposed to do when you go on dates with pretty girls.”

Her whole upper body burns. “Right, well, save your compliments for your Instagram,” she retorts. “Shall we?” She gestures out to the door.

Now, he laughs. His soft, quiet laugh. “Yeah, let’s go. My car’s out back.”

So they head out and he even holds out his arm for her to take as they step down the stairs (since she's wearing heels) and he doesn’t remove it until they reach his car.

It beeps open and he opens the passenger side, without flair or show. As if it is the most natural thing to do. She steps in and sits. Through the reflection of the rearview mirror, she watches him as he makes his way around the rear end of the car. Then he stops.

An anxious hand reaches up to his lips and he closes his eyes for a second.

Then he moves again and before he makes it to the driver's side. Katara jolts in her own seat as realization dawns on her. 

“Oh no.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHY IS ZUKO SO HARD TO WRITE?? At least...like this?? Hahahaha I'm trying  
> I'm imagining more of a comic-book Zuko or on-his-date-with-Jin Zuko, where his temper is in check but because this is from Katara's POV, we won't get a lot of his characterization until a bit later.  
> ANYWAYS, if you have any suggestions send them my way please!! BUT, if you dare think that Zuko isn't a natural romantic (despite still being awkward AF) then you have to watch every interaction he has with girls and try to tell that to me, TO MY FACE. Because it is not true. That whole shell thing on the beach, in fact, the ENTIRE beach episode. ZUKO IS A ROMANTIC PIECE OF SH*T AND I DARE YOU TO TELL ME OTHERWISE. 
> 
> Also, for anyone who was invested in my personal romcom story, I am proud and thankful to announce that while the time was fun and very romcom-esque, he has left the country and I doubt I will ever see him again. (He was a *gag*Republican*gag*).


	5. Express (Delivery) Yourself

# Express (Delivery) Yourself

The event at the Philharmonic is featuring Chamber music, which Katara loves. (She’s always been a sucker for fancy/classy things) But frankly, by the time the last bar ends, she realizes that she hasn’t really paid any attention to the music. She still applauds, though. 

Turns out, forcing yourself to not think about someone still forces you to think about them to a certain degree.

Does not help when that someone is sitting right next to you, his thigh flush against yours, his cologne and warmth wafting to you through the soft touch of his shoulder.

...

“Oh, _god_ ,” Katara groans when she keels over the bathroom counter. “What is happening. This cannot be happening.”

She wets her hands and slaps her cheeks a bit and they feel balmy against the skin of her palms.

“Don’t screw this up, Katara,” she whispers to her reflection. “This is a good, mutually-beneficial relationship so don’t ruin it by reading into his actions or catching feelings. He is using you and you are using him.”

She huffs and thanks the unseen spirits of fortitude that no one else is there to see or judge her abject craziness. Then takes a moment to straighten up her appearance, dab on some concealer under her eyes, and straighten up her dress.

Then she hears Toph’s annoying voice in her head going, _Did you guys fuck yet?_

Katara huffs, trying to calm the sudden rise of bile and frustration.

“Don’t let it get to you,” she says to herself again.

“Sorry, what?”

Katara turns to her right, suddenly aware of and incredibly mortified by the presence of an older woman at the sink besides her, putting on her lipstick.

“Oh, sorry, no. I-I was just talking to myself.”

The woman nods slowly, concern painting her expression.

Unfortunately, Katara never does well in awkward situations and feels compelled to prattle, like a crazy person, “I...I’m on a date and it’s going well but I just - you know - I don’t want to let it get too serious.”

The woman nods again, even more slowly, as she draws her hands underneath the sink, not breaking eye contact.

“So I’m just - _here_ ,” Katara begins to fake laugh. (Oh, she is crazy). “And, talking to myself. So...”

_What am I doing?_

The woman nods again, turns off the faucet, then walks away to dry her hands.

Then she leaves.

“I...probably need to murder her and then myself.” She looks back at her reflection in the mirror for confirmation. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

* * *

She finally forces herself to walk out and spies Zuko from around the corner, but as she gets closer to him, she sees that he is talking with a family - a mother, father, and girl (maybe twelve or so). She instantly rehearses their backstory in her head, just in case, and prepares her customer service smile.

“Zuko?” Katara asks, stepping up to them.

“Ha!” the little girl goes. “I knew he was dating someone! I _told_ you.” Then she turns up to the father and taunts, “You owe me five bucks.”

Zuko, looking a bit embarrassed, reaches his arm from behind her and gently places his hand at the small of her back (and it makes her shoulders prick and her heart hum) and says, “Katara, um, this is-”

Then she recognizes the mother. “Oh my gosh. You’re Ursa Noh.”

Ursa smiles beautifully, and it is as if rays of sunshine burst from the halo about the crown of her insanely gorgeous head of hair. Her voice is clear and full of song, “ _Hi_ , it is a pleasure to meet you, Katara.”

“Oh my gosh. You’re...you’re…” she cannot think of words as things that can make conceivable sense. “...a real person.”

The father laughs loudly, “It’s always the sopranos.”

Katara gets a better look at him and almost punches herself, just now matching his face with the City Opera House brochure. “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry...you were the tenor...weren’t you?”

“Yes, Ikem Norenn, good to finally meet you.” He gives her his hand to shake and she takes it. “Even though your existence did just lose me five bucks.”

“Hi! I’m Kiyi!” the girl trills, looking up at her with clear and vibrant eyes. “How long have you been dating Zuzu?”

“I-”

“Because his whole face - like - _lights up_ when he talks about you. And he doesn’t get like that about anyone.”

“Kiyi-” Ursa begins.

“Oh my gosh-” Katara feels herself blush. She looks at Zuko, who has turned into a blank persona, looking off into the distance like a living sculpture frozen in marble and awkwardness.

“And, he’s getting like _super-old_ now so I thought he was just going to end up alone since he and Mai broke up.”

“Kiyi!” Ikem startles.

“But then I saw his Instagram and he _never_ posts about anything so all of sudden he does and there are actually _good pictures_ then I’m like - OH MY GOSH - who’s the hot girl in all your pics, Zuzu? And he doesn’t give me a clear answer but then, _here you are!”_

The girl then slows down and the reality of her words make their nest in the air, like an invasive species among the ecosystem of these five human beings. Then she drops the bomb, “Are you going to get married?”

Ursa and Ikem look absolutely appalled, trying to pull Kiyi behind them. “I am _so_ sorry about her...she,” Ursa begins, her eyes wide and trailing between Katara and the statuesque remains of her son, who has left the earthly realm and has joined the spirits. “She hasn’t seen Zuko in a while and she gets over-excited and - _oh my_ …”

And Katara just laughs.

The mood suddenly shifts, especially as Katara addresses Kiyi and begins, “Well, Zuko and I have been going steady for almost three months now - so it hasn’t been that long. And his face _should_ light up,” she turns to him to see life slowly creeping back into his features like a handsome Galatea to her Pygmalion. Then she shares conspiracy with Kiyi in an indulging smile. “I _am_ his girlfriend. And yes, he is _super-old_ ; did you know he still reads newspapers? Like _actual_ ** _paper_** newspapers?”

Kiyi giggles with absolute glee.

Katara continues, “And _yes,_ I am to blame for his improving Instagram skills. And yes, _here I am_ ,” she laughs. “And we haven’t been dating for that long so marriage is not really on the table right now and besides, we’re like barely twenty years old and our brains haven’t fully developed yet so I would feel _very_ uncomfortable even thinking about marriage at this point but I mean, if his sister is this cute, who knows,” she shrugs, “I might feel obligated enough to test the waters.”

Smiles promptly become contagious and Katara feels slightly redeemed from her previous messy awkwardness from the bathroom.

“Oh, I like you,” Kiyi announces without any irony. Then she squeals, “Zuzu, I _really_ like her.”

“I can tell,” Zuko finally mutters some actual words. Then he turns to Katara, a soft smile on his lips, before he says, as if he nothing else could give him as much joy, as if he genuinely liked her, as if this was real to him, “I do too.”

* * *

Katara might have had a minor stroke at this point, but she plays it off when Ursa and Ikem invite them over for a meal.

* * *

“You’re really okay with meeting with them?” Zuko asks in the car, on the way back to campus.

After the Philharmonic, they had gotten dinner at those hole-in-the-wall Mexican places with the best burritos in the world and Katara - _finally -_ got to pay for their meal. Then she made fun of Zuko for eating his burrito with a fork and knife, which he took like a champ. Then he flicked salsa on her plate, which started a brief salsa war.

“Yes, for the last time, they seem really cool,” she huffs, from the passenger seat. She fiddles with her beat-up cheap Android phone in her fingers. “And I thought the whole point was to - you know - sell it.”  

“Yeah, it’s just…” he starts then trails off.

“ _Zuko_.” She is wondering if they need to put things in writing, like in the movies. Have a contract with explicit rules of their particular “arrangement.” But that does sound more escort-y than Katara likes but it gets frustrating when he isn’t comfortable enough to be outright with her. “Just say it.”

_Or is that mean to expect that of him?_

Then, he goes, “I was hoping we could leave our families out of it.”

 _Ouch_.

_Not mean enough, it seems._

Katara’s instinct is to glare at him and her defensiveness flares up, like whenever Sokka purposefully provokes her to the extent where she now knows why Cain killed Abel, she feels it in her soul.

But with _this_ , with _Zuko_ , it stings more than it should.  

“Well, I couldn’t really help it,” she retorts.

“Yeah, I know - it’s not that. I’m just...I’m-” he sighs out, exhaling out more irritation than Katara is comfortable with. “Sorry - no, I didn’t mean it like that,” he suddenly says, as if he’s apologizing for not doing the dishes.  “I’m worried that they will really like you. And they do. I can tell. It just-”

It clicks for her. “I might not be sticking around?” she finishes for him.

The concept hangs in the air, like an open sore that continually reminds a poor college student that pain exists and it sucks and that medical insurance is too expensive to help them now.

The ending to this particular thing was never really discussed.

“When do we end this then?” she asks. “When you graduate?”

“I…” he stops himself. A few beats of silence follow and when he slows down at a red light, he goes, “That makes the most sense.”

Her head flinches so that she looks out the dark window, watching various shades and clumps of grey and black whip by. She repeats the bathroom mantra in her head.

_We are just using each other._

_It’s got to end sometime._

“At least you don’t neg,” she finally says, trying to focus on the positives.

“What?”

“... _neg,_ like negging,” she clarifies, slowly.

“I...I don’t know what that is. Is...is it related to egging?”

She almost snorts. “No, Zuko. dear Yue. Like, when a guy says something mean to a girl to lower her self-confidence, make her dependent on him for affirmation, like when guys go, ‘Oh _of course_ you like stupid rom-coms. You’re such a girl.’ Then that girl spends a ton of time trying to convince him that she’s ‘not like other girls’ to feel better or defend herself. But, in the end, it’s just a super shitty move on his part.”

“That...” He is trying not to laugh. “...was very specific.”

“It didn’t happen to me,” Katara clarifies, a bit peeved at his reaction.

“Right.”

“No, this was - like guys do it to me but I never actually fall for it.”

“ _Sure.”_

“Oh my gosh. You’re doing it now!”

“I feel like sarcasm and effing are different,” he returns, as if he gave a great closing argument.

“It’s _negging_ , Zuko. And I have a feeling you’re a natural at it.”

“Oh, yeah, I used to be,” he confesses.

“With your ex?” She assumes.

“No.”

A beat.

“My uncle.”

Katara doesn’t breath for a few moments. Then says, “Oh.”

“Yeah, I was….I was kinda an ass when I was a teenager....” The mood picks up again.

“Isn’t everyone?”

“No,” he scoffs. “Well, not like me.” He shakes his head as he thinks about his past. “God, I am so glad you didn’t know me then.”

Her lips flatten in disbelief. “You couldn’t have been that bad.”

“Yes, yes, I was.”

“What? How? What could you have possibly done?”

He makes a turn. “Oh, I was a full-on stalker, at one point.”

“What?” she cackles.

“Yeah, there was this kid who interned with my dad and my dad was obsessed with him and I did not take to it really well.”

“Oh my gosh, did you - Zuko, did you-”

“I didn’t do anything to him-”

“I’m fake-dating a murderer.”

“Stop,” he interjects, “No, I didn’t do anything to him.”

“Lies. I see it in your face, Zuko.” She starts poking him in the shoulder. “You killed some poor innocent intern. Probably stuffed him in your obnoxiously big headphones and pushed him off a bridge.”

They come to a stop sign and when the car stops, he scowls at her, but there is goodwill in his eyes.

Finally, he returns his gaze to the road. Then admits, “My sister kicked him in the balls.”  

She covers her face in shock. “Kiyi?!”

Zuko winces; and the mood falls again. “Oh, no, my - um - I don’t know the right term - but Kiyi’s my half-sister. My sister Azula…she’s the... my other sister.”

“Oh.” (God, she says “oh” a lot).

Now, Katara has always prided herself in not really involving herself in the world of socialites and celebrities, or the show _The Bachelorette_ ; but now she wonders if she should have researched about Zuko’s family a little more, especially knowing how tense things are between him and the rest of them.

“She goes to Kasai,” he tells her.

“Makes sense,” she utters. “You know, you don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Zuko merely nods.

Then the next few minutes are poignantly soundless, apart from the hum of the engine.

“Why aren’t you pre-med?” he suddenly asks her.

Katara makes a face he cannot see. “What?” _How did he get from point A - his sister, to point B - her not being in pre-med?_

“I was thinking about it for a while -” he explicates, apropos of nothing, apparently, “Since you’re super smart and ambitious, you know….so why aren’t you pre-med?”

Her unseen face becomes more exaggerated. “Is my trying to be a nurse so hard to comprehend?”

“No,” he grumbles. “I just didn’t peg you to be the type to take orders from anyone...I figured you’d be the type to go to med school.”

“Well, I’ll still be going to med school, I’ll just be going to be an RN.”

“Why not go for a full-out doctor….is it a doctorate? Or is that just for liberal arts?”

She starts laughing.

“Alright, hey, don’t laugh...I don’t know anything about this field.”

Katara dissolves into her giggling.

She had brought up registering for a strictly pre-med course for next semester but the head of the department, Dr. Pakku, is a sour old tart and does not believe women have what it takes to be doctors.

She explains so to Zuko. “Then my advisor comes up with all sorts of excuses and I...I get it and it’s not like I think nurses are _below_ doctors in any way. I want to be a nurse. I’ve always wanted to be a nurse.”

“But you could be a doctor.” Zuko finishes for her.

Katara ruminates on that for a bit.

“Yeah, I guess.”

* * *

The weekend comes to its end. Zuko drops her off. She goes to her room. Washes off her makeup, strips off her dress, then collapses on her bed. Then she gets up the next morning and goes to Anatomy. 

It ends. 

Like all things.

Like her classes.

Like her first semester.

Like her thoughts about Zuko and every single thing that comes out of his mouth.

Yes, those thoughts naturally come to an end and she does not force it _at all_.

“Yeah, right,” she mutters to herself. Why can’t human beings just be androids? With no capacities for annoying emotional things to muck up programming?

Because, just because, she might not want her time with Zuko to end.

And it messes up everything. 

* * *

The week before her finals, she goes to the library, seeing it more filled than it has ever been, with students keen on the bare minimum of survival to get through the hell of first-semester exams. She ambles to her spot, which is - thankfully - still a bit empty, and pulls out her prep work.

An hour later, Zuko appears, when she’s going through her flashcards again, and he just straight-up says, “Hey, so I talked to Toph.”

Utterly mystified as to why anyone would start a conversation like that, Katara goes, “...and?”

His shoulders hike up and down as he braces himself. Then he states, “And, with her help and her dad’s...I got a meeting set up with you and the head of the Pre-med program.”

She must look absolutely shocked and overjoyed because he starts smiling. She mutters, stupefied, “You...you got me a meeting with Dr. Pakku?”

“Yes, and it’s tomorrow.”

* * *

Shit. 

She likes him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long but I tried!!! hahaha...i did
> 
> Kiyi's a bit older in this AU and she's based off of one of my little cousins, who is the perkiest awkward MS student ever and I love her and she's adorable and super SUPER invasive.
> 
> Also, Ursa has always been a strange character to me. I haven't really kept up with the comics but her characterization was always so weird to me. I've actually thought about writing a fic focused on her, but we'll see.


	6. Address Your Mail/Male

# Address Your Mail/Male

Oh, if all women could have the opportunity to bring a straight, prideful, and presumptuous male down a few pegs, the world would know so much more peace.

And that is the only thing Katara thinks of when she faces down the stupidest and most arrogant piece of shit she has ever laid eyes on.

Dr. Pakku, head of the BSSU Pre-Med Department.

The man very obviously believes that Katara should show a galaxy of gratitude and prostrate herself at his feet for even being able to meet with him. Then he has the gall to become more haughty and self-assured when she says she wants to be able to at least take Organic Chemistry II, which is usually reserved for pre-med majors since Nursing majors only need to take one semester of Orgo.

But she could do it. She tells him so. And he is not persuaded. In fact, his carefully constructed rebuttals all indicate that he is _very_ aware of the language in the university charter concerning discrimination and has worded his responses in a way where Katara could not go to Human Resources to do something about it.

Then, he concludes his pomp with, “That is how it has always been done. If you have a problem with how this institution runs things as it has done - undisturbed as it is - for the past one hundred years then go take it up with the dean and then transfer to Kasai. I’m sure you’ll fit in _great_ there.”

(What she would not give to leap over the table and tackle him to the ground and _really_ show him the “soft inconvenience of femininity.”)

Instead, she takes a deep breath, looks at the soft-looking department administrator who always has the best candy at her desk, then back to Dr. Pakku, and states, “You taught a section of Organic Chemistry I this semester, yes?”

His first physical reaction is that of disbelief and even more disdain, but he offers, “Yes. _And_?”

“I recognize that your course specializes in topics that would only be covered in the follow-up pre-med course,” she says since she knew he was going to say something to that effect. “And that acts as the main weeder for the major, right?”

Pakku only nods.

“So if you really think I am not cut out for the pre-med then it goes to show that if I can pass _your final_ from _your class_ , then I can do well enough in the pre-med program.”

The man looks a little taken aback and a little more than confused. “What are you suggesting?”

“I am saying that I’ll take my finals. **_And_ ** I’ll take yours.”

* * *

Pakku refuses at first, so, motivated by her intense aggravation, Katara does bring it up with the dean - again, thanks to Toph’s meddling.

The dean agrees to the wager, which means that Pakku has to.

Katara lets Toph call her “Sugar Queen” for the rest of her life; she’s _that_ thankful.

* * *

She was going to study her butt off anyway for her finals, but she figures that she’ll end up studying her butt and general health away for Pakku’s exam.

But it becomes a thing.

Like, a legitimate _campus-wide_ thing.

A week and a half prior, the campus Feminists Club, Suki’s soccer team, and two sororities all email her to recommend ways to support her and become intensely involved. A sorority sister has a boyfriend who is in the pre-med program and was able to procure the ultimate study guide to pass Pakku’s final. Others send her care packages and some girls take turns making meals for her so that she eats well prior her exam. There are three Google Docs circulating the campus intranet for her sake.

Six days prior, two of her professors agree to have her take their finals at other times to accommodate the _one._

Three days prior, Katara gets an email from the school newspaper, asking her if they can interview her after she receives the results of her final. Any grade she might get is newsworthy, apparently.

* * *

The day comes and Katara knows she has never felt more stressed and more supported in her life.

* * *

She passes with a 79.9%, 11.9 points higher than the average.

The .1 off was for an innocuous spelling error. (Pakku is a sore loser, apparently.)

It won’t be put on her transcript but it is enough for Katara to take pre-med courses starting next semester, and can send in her bid to transfer majors.

Katara Y. is going to become the first _female_ BSSU pre-med major.

She did it.

* * *

She bounds out of the exam room and squeals her victory to her friends. The hall explodes with cheers and congratulations.

As Suki entraps her in a tight hug and a bunch of sorority sisters all scream at the top of their lungs, Katara lets herself feel this win.

Then, she sees Zuko, off in the distance down the hall. A proud smile just painted so on his lips.

This is a victory for him too.

But as she watches him, catches his eyes, as the crowd around her cheers, something within her falls. She knows her face falls as well because Zuko is a mirror, mimicking her slow neutralizing expression.

The sudden intrusion of the thought is too foreign yet too similar to be anything false.

Everything should be so simple and if she realizes that she loves Zuko, in this moment of victory, her life would be just that simple. She got the recognition, the boy, and the honor all in one smooth roll of a day, that glorious scene right before the credits of those uplifting high school romcom films.

But it isn’t.

It never fucking is.

Because she thinks of Zuko, yes. But she also thinks about how much she wants to share this moment with Aang.

* * *

And that is why, on the day that she should be packing her junk into Suki’s SUV and driving home for the break, Katara is actually crouching behind the counter of the CPO at the feet of Song Chae, as she closes up the office for the day.

“And that’s why I feel like I need to talk to someone who knows what’s going on and knows Zuko but won’t tell me to just - I don’t know - punch out my feelings,” Katara grumbles out.

“Because Suki would tell you to do that?” Song asks, going about her duties while simultaneously counseling the broken waterbender with ease.

Katara has her arms wrapped around her knees and bobs her head on top. “Well, no, Toph would though but Suki doesn’t know it’s all fake.”

“Wait, it’s fake?!”

“Oh…” _Shit_.

“Just messing,” Song laughs, throwing a money pouch into a large safe and shutting it closed. Katara wonders if every female in her life has to have that mischievous streak in their nature that seems specifically branded to making her a little bit more miserable. “I did know. I mean - I was there the day you two met. Besides, everyone at CPO knows everyone’s business.”

Katara sighs a little bit of her misery out into the air. “Thanks for letting me hide out here, by the way.”

“No problem. Being student manager has its perks but, we will have to leave soon. And isn’t your roommate your ride home?”

“Yeah, she...I told her I’m at the registrar... _registering._ ”

“Damn, Katara,” Song jeers (well-meaning, of course). “You’re just lying about everything, huh?”

Katara knows Song is joking but it makes her feel incredibly awful, like Toph managing to sucker-punch her in the gut. She groans and buries her face in her knees. “What should I do?”

“Katara, take it from someone who only has dated guys for three months at a time because she gets bored and-,” then Song pauses, realizing that what she just said was not exactly what she should have said and quickly changes mental tracks. “Just be careful and be honest. Yeah, it might be a fake relationship; but it sounds like your friendship isn’t.”

“No…” Katara mutters tentatively. “I do think we are actually friends.”

“Yes, you guys are. And, honestly, that’s a rare thing.”

That catches Katara's attention. “What?”

Song stops abruptly, and they share a pause as she thinks about how much she can reveal, before saying, “Zuko doesn’t make friends very well. He might have his roommate, sure. Other than you, me, and Toph - _maybe_ ; I mean, it’s a stretch - but there really isn’t anyone else.” She ends on a sobering note. “It’s hard for him to trust people.”

That is something Katara learned too, throughout the semester. For all the openness they shared in the course of their fake dating, Zuko tends to keep to himself. Zuko’s roommate, Satoru, is a nice enough kid but he also keeps to himself. In fact, now that she really thinks about it, Zuko really only hangs out with her.

“So just trust him to understand, because he will and he would do the same with you,” Song states, in conclusion, as she pulls on her coat and backpack. Then she looks down at Katara. “It’ll get worse if you just ignore your feelings - as confusing as they are.”

Katara nods and slips her phone from out of her back pocket and texts Zuko that she wants to talk at his place. Then she texts Suki to let her know about the pit stop before heading back to the apartment to finally leave.

_ < Celebratory sex? _

Suki texts.

_OMG no. > _

_ < goodbye sex? _

_What is wrong with you? >   _

_ < SUUUUURE just don’t take too long :P _

Katara groans as Song turns off the lights and beckons her out of the CPO office.

_ < Wanna leave at 6 then? _

_Sounds good > _

“Thanks, Song,” she says, looking up from her phone, her voice full of gratitude and the smallest fraction of that knot of trepidation that hasn’t passed since she’s realized her feelings. “I...It’s nice having someone to talk to about this.”

“No problem, babe,” Song grins back while they walk out and she locks the door behind them. “Honestly, this kind of drama gives me life. Let me know how it goes, kay?”

Katara nods, hoping for the best but really not knowing what the next hour might hold. But that is not enough to deter her. Feelings are feelings. They either pass on or get stronger, might as well get in control of that now.

She was never one to pine.

And, probably to her detriment, she never really had to. Sure, she had crushes, guys she fancied from afar; but she never languished away over a boy. Never felt like she wasn’t a person if some dude wasn’t in her life - that’s just ridiculous. If she did like someone, she made an effort in that direction. But because Aang had been her boyfriend for that entire chunk of her youth, she never really had time to pine or really even just like someone else, who wasn’t Aang.

New territory, for which she has no map.

But it will take more than that to keep Katara from being Katara.  

* * *

Zuko’s apartment is five blocks down from the center of campus. It’s fairly swanky and nothing Katara would be able to afford even with a roommate. She’s been to his place a few times, especially if they need a more private place for a meet-up. It’s the only apartment complex in the area of campus that has a security gate and a guard and they do a great job keeping paparazzi out.

Katara loves walking that particular street to his place. Now that it’s winter, the town decorates everything that is stuck in the ground with lights. It definitely does not snow as much as it does back home, and it’s really only an inch, but it covers just enough to give off that perfect December feeling.

Shu, the guard, buzzes her in with a smile and she takes the elevator to Zuko’s floor where he waits in the hall for her.

“Is Satoru home?” she asks, bounding up to him and tapping the light snow and dirt off her feet before stepping into the apartment.

“No, he left a few hours ago,” he tells her, “He’s spending break with family.”

“What about you? What are you doing?” Katara asks, realizing - with that same brand of guilt that has plagued her this whole semester - that she knew nothing of his plans, despite being his (fake) girlfriend.

(Gosh, she really is an awful (fake) girlfriend).

“I’m staying here.”

“For _all_ of winter break?”

He shrugs. “I mean, I’ll spend Christmas with Uncle and get caught up on journals and papers and stuff.”

“Zuko - that - “ she directs her suppressed chuckles into her sleeve. “That’s probably the saddest thing I have heard in my entire life. And I had to console my brother when he lost his He-Man sword as a kid.”

“That-that was a lot of information.” Then that awkward veil of pure Zuko-awkwardness falls over him as he closes the door. “You wanted to…” then it looked like the most painful thing in the world for him to finish with, “ _talk_?”

She almost snorts as she pulls off her gloves and pats her chilled cheeks.

“We haven’t had much time to talk about things,” Katara asserts, not making any moves to take off her coat or let down her bag. “About us.”

“Oh,” is all he says.

Katara decides to do what she does best: barrel through with simply hope for the best. She sighs and her head tilts a bit as she does. “I realize talking about your feelings isn’t exactly the forte of most guys so I’m not expecting a moment of great mutual revelation or anything,” she adds, insistent. “It’s just that things are all kinda flooding out at once now that finals are over and, well-I just want to be honest with you.”

“Um,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck allowing for his elbow to start painting the air. “I...I’ve always appreciated how honest you are so I do want you to be honest.”

(Then be ready for a whole lot of honesty.) “Zuko - I like you.”

“Oh…wait, _really?_ ” He is in shock. (Happy shock so that’s good, at least). “Like - you-”

She raises up her hand to clarify. “Yeah, and I realize that me catching feelings is a bit of an issue because we’re going to end this next semester but with the break, I figured it would be best to clear the air.”

Zuko just blinks at her, his limbs limp in the air. “Oh...wow...I...I was not expecting that.”

“And just so we’re clear, it’s not like I’m in love with you or anything. I just like your company and yeah,” She shrugs her shoulders, looks askance, and prays that she isn’t blushing. “I like being with you.”

“Okay, cool, yeah, uhm-” He starts rubbing his elbow and gosh, this kid just wears everything so openly. “Me too,” he mutters. 

“But, I still have issues," she admits through gritted teeth.

“Issues?”

Then here comes the bomb. “I - I think I still might be in love with my ex.”

“Oh,” and it is such a loaded _‘oh’ -_ such a laden, labored, loaded ‘oh’.

Her shoulders shoot up. “Which, of course, makes all of this very confusing.”

“Yeah.” His shoulders slump down.

“It’s just that - argh - _Zuko,_ ” she groans, as if she needs to convince him or defend herself, or something, “He was such a big part of my life and when I came here, I thought the clean slate would be enough to solidify that - but I’m going back home and I won’t have homework to worry about and yeah, Suki's going to be with me and it’s most likely a fluke. But - _ugh_ \- I guess I’m trying to say that I’m working things out right now, feelings-wise,” she ends with a huff and clumsily finishes with a stuttering, “Now that I have time to do so.”

He does not respond for a moment and Katara knows that no matter what Zuko feels about her, hearing that she still has feelings for Aang probably did not give her any points. Her gaze circles the floor where he and Satoru take off their shoes. And she’s still in her boots. He’s in dark grey socks.

It probably doesn’t mean anything. But it feels like it should.

“Katara.”

His voice is red velvet and whispers. She prepares herself as her eyes close.

“Thanks.”

“What?”

“Thanks,” he repeats. “For being honest. I - I’m kind of in the same boat.”

“Oh…” she says, not expecting this to go this smoothly at all. “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean - I still have residual stuff too and it-” he sighs, “It gets hard. I get it.”

“Wow,” she mumbles, blinking out of pure shock, mentally comparing this moment to every other “DTR” moment that she has had with the men in her life. “I think you might be the most emotionally mature guy I know.”

He cracks a smile and leans against the wall to the kitchen. “Trust me. I’m not.”

“I’m just - really? You don’t know the men in my life. They could be serial killers. Do you really think that?” Katara questions, completely incredulous that this guy might be the most humble person on the planet and refuses to recognize any good part of him. “Zuko, you’re an amazing person.” She reaches out and takes hold of his hand, on instinct, without a single thought to it, just an extension of her will.

“Katara, I’m not - but I’m trying,” he says to her, indicative of so much more, of so much history and - she’s sure - tragic backstory that she hasn’t had time to unlock or explore or learn. He grips her hand firmly and looks at her in truth. “Right now, I’m in a much better place and a lot of that is thanks to you.”

She remembers what he said in the car.

About being an ass as a teenager.

And she reflects on her own high school days filled with dramatic speeches and self-righteous indignation.

She thinks about timing.

So she really has to say, “Me too.”

And she means it - if she met him at any other time, in any other moment, in any other lifetime, would it end up like this? With her, just barely in his home, holding his hand, anxiously excited about the future the two of them might face together?

Would it feel just as normal? Like they were two streams that suddenly aligned into a greater force of water, a demonstration of nature just doing her thing? Because now she cannot think about her life at Ba Sing Se without him. Zuko is an inextricable part of her college existence now, and probably for the better.

Or is this just that weird honeymoon period people keep talking about? (This particular thought is said in Toph’s voice in Katara’s head.)

So she powers through her own crazy.

“So what do we do from here?” she asks. “Is it smart to keep going with this?”

“You don’t have it figured out?” he asks, sincerely, without any molecule of sarcasm whatsoever. She laughs.

“No, why do you think I’m dumping all of this out now? I’m going to make spreadsheets when I get home.”

He beams, literally beams, like desperately needed sunlight in the middle of a wintertime depression. “Of course you are.”

She shoves him with her free hand but he uses the momentum to bring her flush against him. (This smooth motherfucker).

“I like you,” he confesses into her knit cap. “I like every moment I spend with you, even with all the other... _issues._  It might not be smart, but I’d like to think it’s worth it.”

She still has her coat on, but she can feel his warmth radiate through her layers. She tilts up to face him with a smile. “We’re not dumb enough to do something stupid, right?”

“Hope so.”

She rolls her eyes, and lightly punches him in the shoulder. Then a thought passes through her psyche and she psyches herself up. “Could I try something?”

“Sure.” That softness hasn't faded, it's him now - all of him. 

“Can I kiss you?”

“Oh - um -” he flinches. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” she mutters, then lifts herself up on her toes to kiss him.

And then it fucking blooms - that _spark,_ that tingle, that fluttering in her lungs - starts there then beats and breathes like another living thing in her core, then just dissipates into the rest of her body.

She does not even realize that she says, “Wow,” out loud when they part until Zuko chuckles and presses his lips against hers again. They are soft and smooth, nothing and everything, like the concept of cotton candy - intense, sweet, ethereal, addicting.

His hands are suddenly cupping her face, angling her so that his lips are planted firmly against hers, again and again. (Oh dear Go-) Her back hits the wall as he pushes her back and a gasp starts from her lungs only to stall and convert into a moan from her throat. This is escalating and it’s so bad that it’s so good and, “Zuko!” she manages to articulate through her uneasy breath. “I have to leave in ten minutes.”

“Oh...wait, what?” He lifts away.

Now realizing what he assumed she meant (which is what everyone around her seems to be thinking of: Sierra - Echo - Xray, anyone?), she frowns. “Not like that, geez,” she utters. “I’m just letting you know that I need to leave now.”

He blushes so hard, and even though she should be a little peeved at him that he thought she was asking for a quickie, that stupid puppy face is too frustratingly endearing so Katara swiftly kisses him one more time.  “Do you want to come over during winter break?” she asks while inching to his door.

Definitely off-kilter by her kiss and suggestion, he only succeeds in muttering, "I...I'd like that."

“Cool,” she says, certain that it is all smiles on her lips as she tiptoes up one more time to peck him on the cheek. “Text me, okay?”

He nods and returns the favor with a peck on her forehead. “Have a safe trip.”  

* * *

As Suki drives the two of them to her home, Katara breathes - like really breathes, thinking that the worst is behind.

But she hasn’t been on social media.

And she hasn’t seen her dad.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drama in chapter 2 is for punks! You get it later! Like in life! After that sweet high, you're gonna get that crash and then that mini-high and then that big crash then the finale~~ (Spoilers??)  
> WHEW - I had no idea how this chapter was going to end up, but it's finished and it's something! Satoru's here! And Song's back!  
> So, Song is definitely OOC because she's me. I couldn't help it - but if I were in the ATLA universe, I'd probably be one of the nuns from that episode with Bato and June.  
> Also, I have a great idea for a summer camp counselors AU and it shocks me, SHOCKS me that there is ABSOLUTELY NOTHING of that kind on AO3 for Zutara, I am ashamed of us. How dare us/you - we degrade the great ship and our captain, Dante Basco. 
> 
> So if that’s your kind of thing, expect the first chapter of that tomorrow lol I already wrote the first two chapters.


	7. Strange Weird Packages tied up with string

# Strange Weird Packages tied up with string

Of all the anomalies of the world, Katara firmly believes that Sokka is the greatest of them. When she told him that Suki would be staying with them over the break, she expected he would want to avoid them and be on his best antisocial behavior - but _no_. 

He had to turn into a fucking weirdo. 

Because Sokka actually cleaned up the house. 

“Something happened,” Katara says, deeply perturbed, the first step she takes into her home. "This is wrong," she murmurs. As she and Suki drag their luggage over the threshold and tap off the snow and grime from their boots, Katara glares about her living room in shock. She can see the actual carpet without any piles of laundry on it, holiday lights and evergreen branches over the windows, and a large “Welcome Home” sign pinned up to a dusted ceiling. 

She is in utter disbelief. 

“They were raptured or something - imposter syndrome?” she grimaces at her floor in thought, “Wait, no that’s not it.” 

“There’s my girl!” Hakoda greets them warmly, arms outstretched and a large smile on his face as he appears from the kitchen. He wraps his frozen and profoundly disturbed daughter in a large hug. “It’s good to see you again, Suki.” He reaches out his hand for her to shake. 

“Thanks for having me. It’s really nice of you,” Suki offers back with a smile as she takes it. 

“No problem. More the merrier,” Hakoda laughs back, like one of those dads in those badly produced commercials.  

“Where’s my family,” Katara whispers to herself, her eyes still wide, her body still locked in her father’s embrace. 

“Hey,” Sokka’s voice sounds from the other side of the room. He’s leaning on the doorframe, his eyes are lidded, and his hand holds a beer by the neck. “What’s up?” 

“Sokka, did you change?” Hakoda asks, releasing Katara a bit so that she can see her brother wearing a polo shirt and khaki pants (his “church” outfit). 

“What, no,” Sokka immediately states, defensively. 

“Capgras, it’s the Capgras Syndrome,” Katara successfully concludes, now armed with this new piece of extraordinary evidence. “Aliens. Or early-onset Alzheimer’s...” she mumbles to herself, convinced that either she’s gone crazy or her boys have. 

And it didn’t end there. 

The whole night, and the next day, Sokka...was a _gentleman._

Well, his definition of a gentleman. 

He wore ironed clothes, kept using big words (with Latin/Greek roots) somewhat correctly, pulled out Suki’s chair, _cooked_ , was able to engage in a conversation on feminist theory - oh gosh, this is weird. 

By Day Three, Katara has had enough. 

“Why are you being so weird?” Katara questions, as if accusing him of being an entirely different person (and she kind of was), barging into their small kitchen while he washes the dishes after lunch. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sokka returns, shrugging as he sets a washed cup upside down on the bottom of their two-tiered drying rack. Wherever they lived, they’ve never been able to afford a dishwasher or there just wasn’t one. But Dad always did the dishes. Katara cooked and cleaned and mended. Sokka bought the groceries and did the taxes. 

“Those don’t go there,” Katara corrects, frustration bubbling up inside of her. “Cups go on the second rack.” 

“Well, whenever _I_ do the dishes, they go here and it’s fine and not a big deal,” Sokka scoffs back. He then wipes his hands on the dishtowel hanging by the sink, goes over to the cupboard and pulls out a package of popcorn. “You want some?” 

Katara just scrutinizes his actions as he rips off the wrapper, manages to toss it into the recycling, then puts the popcorn in the microwave. 

“Did you take a class?” she asks. 

“What?” Sokka snaps, thoroughly confused, pushing the buttons.

“Did you take a class on Feminism? Or - _I don’t know-_ ” she muses dramatically, “On how to be a functioning human being? Why. Are. You. Being SO WEIRD? You never put things in the recycling!” 

“I don’t have to dignify that with a response,” Sokka says, in that high-and-mighty manner of his. “And I’m not being _that_ weird…” he looks back at her. “Am I?” Suddenly sheepish, “Has Suki said anything?” 

“Oh. My. Gosh.” She throws her hands in the air. “Are you that desperate to get into her pants?” 

“No!” he yarps at her, defensively, but at a whisper since Suki is just in the next room. “I just think she’s cool and is it really that weird for a person to try to show their best qualities?” 

(Ugh, she hates it when he uses “logic”). “If it’s you, yes.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever, you owe me anyway. Especially considering that I’m keeping a very important secret of yours. So if you sabotage this perfectly innocent endeavor of mine to **_befriend_ **your roommate, then I am telling Dad about your weird boyfriend in a way that ensures you will never be able to date anyone ever again.” 

She grimaces. Her brother is usually harmless but she knows a well-thought-out threat when she hears one. “How did you get from A to-you know what- okay, fine. Yes, I owe you and you _promise_ you didn’t say anything to dad?” 

“Well, he’s keeping his own love-secrets. So there’s-” he stops himself. 

“...” Katara blinks. 

“Oh, shoot.” 

“WHAT?” 

* * *

“YOU’RE DATING SOMEONE?” Katara shrieks as she runs out of the kitchen and into the living room, where her dad and Suki were. Suki’s eyes widen, then when she realizes who Katara was screaming at, she quietly stands up from her spot on their armchair and walks into the kitchen. 

“Katara, honey, please keep your voice down,” Hakoda groans, his head in his hands, as he puts away his book so that he can be soundly reprimanded by his youngest child. 

Katara ignores him and begins ranting, “After that whole She-who-shall-not-be-named fiasco, you said - no, you _swore_ , you would never get involved with anyone.”

“Who was that?” Suki asks Sokka, as Sokka hands her a tub of freshly made microwave popcorn. 

“Chick named Malina.” He grabs a handful and tosses it into his mouth. Then as he chews, explains, “She was this public relations person hired to do some PR for the rez redevelopment project but ended up seducing my dad to get at the natural oil deposit on the land.”

Suki learned from Katara that due to Hakoda’s efforts in politics, their people were able to garner some federal funding for housing developments and to jumpstart businesses. Their house, in particular, was one of the first since Hakoda had to be on reservation land and also be close enough to city hall in case something came up. But Katara was still initially wary about bringing her since their neighborhood was still considered “the wrong side”. 

But Suki grew up in a home, she’s seen and lived through much worse. Being a part of a family, even as one as strange as Katara’s and even for a short while, was going to be a treat. 

This additional side of drama just makes it all the more fun too. 

“Shit,” Suki mutters, enthralled and mortified. “That’s cold.” 

“So Dad swore off dating.” 

“But then Katara left and he needed to fill the female-shaped hole in his life?” Suki comments, stuffing popcorn into her mouth. 

Sokka snorts, in that same way Katara does. “That makes a lot of sense, actually. But no, I don’t think so. I think he genuinely likes her. She’s pretty cool.” 

From the other room, Katara yells, “YOU’RE BRINGING HER ON THE SKI TRIP?” 

“Yeah, he _definitely_ likes her,” Sokka whispers, “ _I_ didn’t even know he was taking her with us.” His gaze moves to her. “You’re coming, right?” 

“The ski trip? Yeah,” Suki replies. “Part of the reason why I wanted to come. Katara said she was going to teach me to ski.” 

“Pssh, skiing’s for g-uh!” he quickly corrects himself to a meekly muttered, “ _wimps_.”

Her eyes narrow but she still allows him some credit and says, “Nice save.” 

Sokka chuckles nervously before he says, “You know, I could teach you to snowboard - it’s, uh, hmm,” he coughs. “I think it would suit you better.” 

Before Suki even begins to think of a response, Katara shouts, “SHE’S _HOW_ OLD?!” and Suki cannot help but giggle. 

“Your family is kinda crazy,” Suki admits through her quiet laughter. 

Sokka laughs too. “Yeah, but who wouldn’t love this kind of crazy?” He gives her a smile and Suki, despite all of her own values about men and dating them, softens a bit (because, well, okay, so he’s kinda hot and he’s obviously is working on himself).

“Sure,” Suki finally says, then pops a few more kernels in. 

“What?” 

“Teach me how to snowboard.” 

He is obviously way too shocked and way too happy. “Oh, cool, yeah-uh, that’d be ...cool.” 

“What happened to your amazing vocabulary from an hour ago?” Suki teases, setting the bowl of popcorn on the kitchen table. Her athleticism on display as she leans against the counter and crosses her arms over her chest and notes how he is compelled to look and quickly turn away. 

“Comes and goes,” he quips with a shrug. 

This actually makes her laugh. (Okay, he’s cute too.) She spies the basement door and a (not-so-great-but-tempting) idea slowly forms in her head. 

“So, this leads to the basement, right?” 

“Yeah.”

“There’s a couch down there?”

“Uh...yeah.” 

“Cool. Wanna go make out on it?” 

He doesn’t even respond; he just trips towards the basement door and flings it open, then barrels down the stairs to the sound of Suki’s laughter behind him. 

* * *

Meanwhile, Katara is pouting on the couch facing her father. Her mind reels as Dad explains himself and his newest romantic pursuit. 

Apparently, his new floozy is a teacher at the high school Katara, Sokka and Aang graduated from, and Bato was actually the one who set them up together since she is a good friend of his husband. 

And he assures her that all the seemingly pertinent “issues” have been addressed, which makes Katara only wonder how much effort it took to address those "issues" (of the 10-year age gap, their being serious despite only dating for four weeks, her being a complete stranger!) 

But, "she doesn't mind the age difference," 

         And, "she is great with kids," 

Plus, “she was so proud of you for getting into the pre-med track,” (and that helps her opinion of her, but only a bit)

        Then, " I think you would really like her if you gave her a chance."

Katara sighs. Her dad looks at her with such pleading and earnest eyes, and it kills her a bit that her first instinct is to doubt. 

But he has had such a bad track record when it comes to women. And he's alone now. Sokka is probably going to move out that year after graduation since he has a job lined up at Zaofu. And she won't be there to protect him from getting into trouble (like, if he and Bato end up drinking too much again at the pub. But then again, Bato is going through his own honeymoon phase and she remembers dad mentioning every now and again how they never spend time together anymore.)

Is that why? 

The sad thought crosses the rivers of her mind, dragging along that persistent guilt - now flavored by the fact that she was the one who left home first, and had been so insistent on doing so. 

Is he looking for someone to fill the gap that they all are going to leave behind in him? 

“I just don’t want you to be hurt again,” she finally says. And it is the truth. 

Family can hurt family. It’s bound to happen. But at least Katara can prevent some stranger from coming into their home and messing with her dad’s heart. 

“I know, Katara. And I’m thankful for that,” her dad says, softly. “But you’ve spent your whole life trying to take care of me and Sokka and you going off just reminded me that you always won’t be around to do that. You need to be your own person, honey. And so do I.” 

“But-” 

"She really is a good person. And,” his fingers twist about as his speech slows, “She’ll be coming over to dinner tomorrow and I would like for you to meet her.” 

She glowers. “So you weren’t going to tell me anything about her at all before you forced a meeting?” 

"Katara," he chides, and that just irks her more. 

"Well," she asserts as she stands. "I guess I'll just have to see for myself." 

He tries to stop her as she stomps away to her room but she slams the door behind her before he can, (which should signal to him that the conversation is over). 

She flings herself down on her bed and paws at her shitty phone charging on her nightstand (that is actually a storage box with her summer clothes inside and a three-dollar tablecloth and a lamp on top). The phone clicks on, and lo and behold, she has a notification that shows a cursory text from her kinda-boyfriend, from a few hours ago. 

ZUKO 10:23 AM

_Hey._

She scoffs out a little chuckle, and her shoulders feel a little lighter. 

* * *

When Zuko texts, he always uses proper punctuation, is as formal as he possibly can be, and will rarely use internet/texting lingo. And he never - NEVER - uses emojis. 

She texts back. 

_Hey yourself > _

Then, to her surprise, those three little dots show up right away. 

_ < How is your break going?  _

_Fine >   _

Is her immediate response, until she realizes it is a lie. So she sends another:

_Kinda >   _

_ < Did something happen?  _

_... > _

_Kinda? >_

_ < I see.  _

She can almost hear him say, “Uuuhhh,” as he figures out what to text back to make her feel better. 

So she decides to save him. 

_I’ll be fine no worries >  _

_Is something up with you? >  _

 

_ < … _

_ < Kind of.  _

_... > _

_like??? > _

_ < I really am sorry for this.  _

And before she can respond to that, he sends her a link to one of those clickbait articles. She follows the hyperlink to the site with two side-by-side pictures - one of her and Zuko from a distance (thankfully), and then one of him - _maybe_ \- leading a girl with sharp bangs into a restaurant. The headline reads, 

**Prince Zuko Two-Timing? The Truth May Shock You.**

“Am I about to be shocked?” she grumbles to herself as she scrolls down. 

So the paparazzi finally figured out her name and discovered the very basics of her identity - that could be compiled with a very basic Google search.  

> _Zuko’s new beau is a State Champion for Waterbending, a current junior at BSSU, and now, the first female student in their renowned pre-med track. According to a source, the Duke of Hinote met her at a dance club nearby campus and the pair have been inseparable ever since. But apparently, the Fire Nation Royal still has lingering affection for his long-time on-off-again girlfriend, Mai Akimoto._

Now, _this_ is kind of hilarious. 

She returns to her SMS app. 

_Goodness, are you cheating on me, sir? > _

_ < No. _

He texts immediately. 

_That picture was from last year. I don’t know_

_ <  why these people pull this kind of shit. _

_Because it makes them money_ >

_ < I’m sorry I pulled you into this.  _

_I’m not :)_ >

_ < It’s really unfortunate how media m _

_ < Oh.  _

Goodness, she can see him blushing through the phone and she outright giggles to herself. 

This is getting out of hand. 

But thankfully, Zuko returns to business. 

_I thought I should warn you. In case some_

_ < paparazzi show up at your door.   _

_Thanks for the headsup..._ >

_We’re actually going to head out_

_to our annual ski trip soon. It’s at_

_a really small resort so we should_

_be good for a while. I hope! >   _

_ < That’s good.  _

_ < When do you head out?  _

As she is about to text back, the door to her room swings open. Katara shrieks in surprise and turns to glare at the intruder. 

“Damn, girl,” Suki laughs as she saunters in, softly tossing the door shut behind. 

“You freaked me out,” Katara retorts, defensively. “Where have you been?” 

Suki just shrugs and then asks, slyly, “Who’ya texting?” as she slides onto the futon set up for her next to the Katara’s bed. 

“I-” Katara starts. “It’s-”

“Zuko?” 

“SHHHH!” Katara launches herself off her bed to throw her hands over Suki’s mouth. 

“Chill! I get it.” Suki nearly shouts as she dodges Katara and pins her to the futon beneath her.  

“You can’t say anything!” Katara seethes insistently, her hair sprawling all about her face and flowing onto the mattress as she struggles against Suki’s grip. A few strands fall into her mouth and she tries to spit them out. 

“But are you really not going to tell your dad?” Suki asks. 

“I really am not.” 

“Well, that’s not really fair to your dad...right?”

“Well-” she begins in quick defensiveness. 

“Because when he does find out,” Suki offers, in that no-nonsense but still sweetly-said way of hers. “Don’t you think that you’d want him to be a little more amenable to the idea of you having Zuko as a boyfriend than you have been to the idea of his girlfriend?” 

Katara opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. 

(Dammit, she has a point.)

Then the door swings open again and Sokka bursts in, saying, “So we need to go-ooo-OOO?” Then obviously struck by seeing his sister pinned to a futon by her pretty (and pretty butch) roommate, his brain obviously stalls. 

“Can we help you?” Suki says, but far too suggestively, which makes Katara roll her eyes. 

Then Sokka tries to explain that they have to go grocery shopping for the ski trip. 

He does not succeed. 

* * *

But what Suki says does keep Katara sufficiently distracted as she puts on her coat and grabs their large cloth tote bags for groceries. 

So, as Sokka and Suki file out (while arguing about something mundane), she files back in the house. She knocks on her dad’s bedroom door, opens it, then says, “I’ll meet her,” before rushing out into the cold and into Suki’s beat-up SUV. 

* * *

The local grocery store sits a few miles from their house, and is technically part of the other (richer) neighborhood. The neighborhood where Aang is from. 

The thought of potentially running into Aang does cross Katara’s mind as Suki pulls into an open parking spot. 

She had expected it, for one, and had also imagined it going in all sorts of ways. From incredibly awkward (with stiff greetings) to dramatically mournful (with him on his knees begging her to take him back and her weeping hysterically as the winds whip her hair about). 

“I’ve seen _Pride & Prejudice _too many times,” Katara moans to herself while Sokka grabs a cart and leads their expedition into the bread aisle. 

Right after her mother passed away, Katara was initially the one who bought groceries. Her dad and Sokka kept buying junk and microwavable dinners for convenience’s sake, and while their neighbors and church members would bring by pasta dishes and whatnot, her eight-year-old person had a better understanding of healthful meals and the proper food groups than her boys. 

Then Sokka went through a phase where he was suddenly very conscious about his health and body (simultaneously and not coincidentally coinciding with his interest in this one fitness freak at school), so he began to take over the buying of the groceries. 

He grabs a very particular brand of whole wheat and barley bread then a bag of hamburger buns. 

“I make the best meat,” he brags to Suki as he pushes the cart towards the back of the store where the refrigerated meats are. 

“Don’t you mean the best burgers? I doubt you grow your own cows in your tiny backyard,” Suki laughs. 

“Whatever,” Sokka quips back, “I still am the one who makes it best. So I make the best meat.” 

“Okay,” Katara suddenly declares, her tone full of suspicion, and Suki and Sokka turn around in curiosity. “Did something happen between you two.” She points between them. “Why are you suddenly normal again?” That is directed to Sokka. “And why are you _kind of_ flirting with my brother?” That is directed to Suki. 

“She’s not flirting!” Sokka shrieks quietly and suddenly, which instantly signals to Katara that something did, in fact, happen. “Are you?” 

Suki groans and tilts her head up into the air as she does. 

When her head returns and she looks back at Katara, she admits, “We made out. I was going to tell you earlier.” 

“What?!” Katara feels her eyes widen. “When?” 

“An hour ago, maybe?” 

“But you - that - he - WHAT? You actually like him?” 

Thankfully, at two in the afternoon, there aren’t a lot of shoppers and the ones who are present quietly circle and avoid the strange trio at the end of the bread aisle. 

“Why’s that so hard to believe?” Sokka asks, a bit hurt, while Suki shrugs her shoulders and says, “He’s cute.” 

He feels a bit better after that. 

Katara does not. 

She feels betrayed, by some weird gut-reaction, while her rational side quietly reminds her that she loves both of them and it shouldn’t bother her that they might like each other. 

But her emotional side seems to be winning this battle, still reeling from her argument with her dad. 

So she just says, “I’m going to get ice cream,” turns on her heels and walks off towards the frozen section. 

“In the middle of winter?” Suki asks aloud. 

Sokka shrugs this time. “It’s her thing.” 

* * *

It is in fact her thing. 

Katara loves the cold. She loves the sudden drop of temperature the closer she gets to the frozen section. She loves the chill of the glass doors on her fingertips and how that light screen of frost edges towards the middle of the doors. 

She loves looking at the different flavors and deciding between popsicles or tubs of ice cream. 

It is what she and Aang used to do. 

They could spend hours in the ice cream aisle, not because they were arguing or being indecisive, but just because they could. 

Her preference was always ice cream and his was popsicles, or at least sorbet. He likes the light and fruity flavors. 

Then (and spirits, it serves her right for thinking about him so much), Aang appears in the aisle. 

Actual Aang. 

His actual person. 

His whole body jolts when he sees her and even takes a few steps back.

With so much emotional going-ons within her, Katara just about manages to tentatively lift up her hand to wave at him. 

But as she's about to say, "Hello," he goes, “Hi, Katara! Uh, it’s great to see you. How’s your dad? Oh, I hear Gyatso calling. Sorry-Got to go!” 

Then rushes off like a gust of wind. 

Which is _not_ what she expected. No dramatic anything, there wasn't even time for things to be awkward. 

She returns to face the shelves of yellow popsicle boxes and mutters, "Everyone I know is weird."

* * *

Suki eventually finds her in the breakfast foods and granola bar aisle, and apologizes. 

"I should've checked with you and-"

"Suki, it's fine," Katara says, and she means it, now that she's had time to win her emotional side over with rationality, even though now she is completely consumed with wondering about what might have spooked Aang so much. "Really." But she doesn’t really want to think about either - her brother and her roommate snogging or her ex-boyfriend literally fleeing her presence. “Did you guys find everything on Sokka’s list?”

“Yeah, he’s pretty anal,” Suki japes, but there is fondness in her tone and eyes that Katara catches, and it makes her feel so much better, knowing that if Suki actually likes Sokka, then she doesn’t have to worry about it at all. 

“But you really are too good for him,” Katara says, dejectedly. 

“He’s actually really sweet. And he did take a class on feminism. He just didn’t want to tell you.” 

Katara laughs at that, sounds just like her brother actually. 

She might just forgive him. 

“You owe me,” she snaps at him when they load stuff into the trunk. 

“The hell I do,” he returns, with a veiled smile. “She’s the one who initiated anyways.” 

“But you made it so painfully obvious you were into her.” 

He shoves her a bit and she shoves back, and Katara feels like she’s returned to an equilibrium of normal, in some sense. 

But she thought that too soon. 

* * *

The three of them are in the kitchen, putting groceries away and prepping sandwiches for the drive over to Tui La Peak, where Gran-Gran lives, and listening to upbeat versions of holiday songs, when the doorbell rings. 

“It’s probably my package,” Sokka trills enthusiastically, jumping out like a skittish deer. He had ordered a Go-Pro for the trip. 

Suki leans over and whispers, “Is it stupid that I immediately thought, ‘That’s what she said.’” 

Katara snorts. “Outdated, maybe.” 

Sokka opens the door and his shriek of excitement immediately dies into a tone of confusion. 

Then Katara hears a very stilted and very awkward, “Uh, hi, Zuko here...” 

She doesn’t know whether to laugh or groan. 

* * *

Everyone she knows is so _so_ weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh gosh.  
> this took forever  
> this fic is also getting out of hand lol it's getting more and more complicated as I write it and I don't know if I can even end it in the way I want :P OH WELL - LIFE SHALL RUN ITS COURSE  
> Also....WHY IS THIS SO POPULAR? This is one of my most popular ones and it confuses me to no end. Not that this will ever reach 10,000 hits or whatever, but it takes my fics quite a bit of time before they reach 200+ Kudos.  
> I'm so confused @_@ 
> 
> Anyways, a brief moment with Aang and (hopefully) his reaction will be explained in coming chapters and don't worry, he'll get his happy ending (if you couldn't tell by the tags lol) :)  
> Malina is a character in the comics that I don't read lol but the idea of Hakoda getting remarried is actually an idea I love playing around with. So don't mind me lolol


End file.
